Forgetting the Past to Start a Future
by nondescriptf
Summary: Slight AU future fic post 4x09 - only the conversation at the saints and sinners ball ended with Blair walking away from Chuck. Set 5 years in the future. C/B.
1. and so we meet again

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - 'if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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_**Five years earlier**_

"_I'll give you the money to start whatever foundation you want," Chuck said, willing her not to make this decision._

"_It won't change anything! Anne's right, as long as I'm with you, I'm Hilary in the White House and I want to be Hillary, Secretary of State—but with better hair."_

"_Then we'll find another way to show the world you're a force to be reckoned with. We'll build our futures together."_

"_I followed my heart all last year, and it led me nowhere. Now I need to follow my head," Blair admitted._

"_You don't need to choose between them. Look at Brad and Angelina, they take turns on top!"_

"_Yeah, but she won an Oscar first! I'm sorry, but I have to be Blair Waldorf before I can be Chuck Bass' girlfriend."_

"_I love you," Chuck begged._

_The words were on the tip of her tongue, ready to be bandied back, both by habit and because she meant them. But now was the moment for her to decide—she would either continue this destructive cyclical pattern of give and take or she needed to make as clean of a break as possible, and follow through. Very slowly, in a voice used to soothe, she said, "__We have an epic past, but I'm tired of our old memories, beautiful and heartbreaking as they may be. I remember every detail, but I just don't want to re-live it every time I make a decision. I love our past, but I want a future."_

_"__But Blair, our past defines us. If we didn't have our past, we would be meaningless to each other. There's a reason why history is so important," he reasoned._

_"__Our past! Our history! Everything we've been through!" Blair snapped. "Aren't you tired of it, Chuck? To have to rely on the best but worst parts of who we are? I'm not saying I would change it, because than I would have never experienced this with you. But I don't want our mistakes in our past to rule our choices in the future."_

_"__You're throwing us away? Everything we are, you want to erase. Did you ever love me?"_

_Blair's hand reached out to cup his cheek. "__I love you, Chuck, I will always love you. But right now, I can't be with you. And I don't know if I can ever be with you again."_

_"__Blair, please!" As she started to walk away, he grabbed her wrist, and forced her look at him. "If two people are meant to be together, eventually they'll find their way back."_

_She saw the desperation and tears in his eyes, as she felt one trickle down her cheek. Blair wiped it away, and steeled herself from responding to what she believed to be his heart in words. Freeing her hand from his grasp, she whispered, "__Goodbye, Chuck." _

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_**Present**_

In true Blair Waldorf fashion, one engagement party was never going to suffice. So when she looked her fiancé, Louis Grimaldi, in the face, she countered with, "I'll settle for two." He looked at her adoringly, before nodding in agreement. And now, six weeks later, her parents were hosting the first celebration at the Ritz Paris. Eleanor and Harold and Cyrus and Roman had spared no expense, for their Queen B was about to become a princess.

Her guests had flown in from all over the world, yet her heart still fluttered, wondering if _he_ would make it. She had checked and double checked the RSVP list a dozen times, just to confirm that his name staring back at her wasn't just a figment of her imagination. It had been almost five years since she had last seen him. On occasion, she would wake up in a panic, hearing some of the last words she had thrown at him, _I don't want our mistakes in the past to rule our future_. In her dreams, she would see his crestfallen face, as he had asked her s_o, you're throwing us away?_ She would see the tears forming in his eyes, as he had finally realized she was walking away from him, maybe for forever. She hadn't know if she should be grateful or hurt that he had left her alone, that he had completely faded into the background and had not tried to contact her all this time.

The replica of the red gown Audrey Hepburn wore in _Funny Face,_ fit impeccably. It had been a bit silly, but there was something old world and whimsical about it, and it was Audrey in Paris. When the seamstress had come by their penthouse two weeks ago to do the final alterations, she had instinctively reached for the Erickson Beamon necklace—it would've been _perfect_. That was the moment she knew she had to send him an invite, he had been dancing on the fringes of her mind ever since she had accepted Louis' proposal. When she looked down and saw that it was Louis' face that stared up at her, and that it wasn't _his, _Blair knew that this was the end of their epic love story

She had the invitation sent out directly after the seamstress left, and before she could rein in the impulse that had caused her to send it. It was time for her to say goodbye to her past.

Blair floated around the room with Louis on her arm. From the corner of her eye, she saw a glimpse of a pair of golden, shiny heads and detached herself. Serena and Nate were here! Her heart thumped faster, as she looked past the duo to see if he had arrived with them. When she did not see a third member in their party, she tamped down the wave of disappointment as two of her best friends doled out hugs and kisses, telling her how stunning she looked.

With a smile pinned to her face, Blair began wondering what was wrong with her. This was her engagement party, for heaven's sake, and all she could think of was seeing an old flame. She felt Louis' arms wrap around her waist from behind, as Serena and Nate started to chat with him, congratulations being repeated, and more hugs and more kisses. Blair started to feel like she was suffocating. She excused herself from the trio, citing the need for a bit of air. Before any of them could object, she waived them off, insisting she'd just be a minute. As she struggled for composure, she slipped through the large terrace doors and out onto the balcony.

"Blair," she heard his voice, just above a whisper, as she whirled around and met his eyes.

"Chuck," she breathed, a soft smile crossing her face.

"Or should I say, Jo Stockton?" He smiled back. He had not missed a step and recognized her choice in attire.

"How are you?" She asked, meaning it.

"Not as good as you look," he returned. "I had _almost_ forgotten how beautiful you were. Photos have never done you justice."

She blushed as she softly tapped him on the shoulder. "You always did know how to charm a girl, Bass."

"Just one, Waldorf, just one."

Looking at him in his perfectly tailored charcoal suit, she couldn't help but feel a strange sadness. This was her childhood friend, the one time love of her life—he was all grown up and practically a stranger. There were so many things she wanted to say and ask him, but she didn't know where to start. Finally, she settled for polite conversation, "So where's your date?"

"No date."

Blair raised a brow.

Chuck shrugged. "I'm not seeing anyone."

She crossed her arms, brow rising even higher.

He laughed and put up his hands, "Blair, I come in peace. I don't have any games or plots up my sleeve. Besides, tonight is about you and Louis. I'm here to celebrate with you, that's all."

Wrinkling her nose, she looked at him suspiciously, before throwing her arms around him into a hug. That was the first mistake—she had forgotten how perfectly they fit together and how much he made her body tingle with excitement. She heard him inhale her scent as he burrowed his head into her neck and murmured, "I've missed you."

Luxuriating in his embrace, she answered back, "I've missed you, too."

As though he realized that holding her any longer would be deemed inappropriate, he released her and stepped back. "Save me a dance."

"Chuck," she paused. She shook her head, "We really shouldn't."

"Meet me back out here in an hour. Just one dance. It'll be the last time I get to hold Blair Waldorf in my arms," Chuck requested sincerely.

"Okay," she nodded and disappeared back into the ballroom.

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Exactly fifty-five minutes later, Chuck still stood out on the balcony, overlooking the lights of Paris. It had been much more overwhelming then he had imagined, seeing her again. And despite his intentions, he had still not set foot inside the party. He didn't know if he could stomach looking her fiancé in the face and sincerely congratulate him. He didn't even know what Blair had told Louis about him or their past. He had caught a glimpse of Serena and Nate inside, but since they didn't know he had also been invited, he hadn't wanted to cause what was sure to be an awkward scene. So, he had bided his time on terrace, waiting for the hour to pass.

When she had couriered the invitation to his office two weeks ago, it had almost been enough to send him over the edge. He had been so good, so disciplined, in staying away from her. He had turned the crisp, ivory invitation in his hands over and over, waiting for the pain to subside. It was as if he was back lying on the street in that alley in Prague. But instead of a single bullet, he felt as though he was being shot repeatedly. The only woman he had ever loved was going to get married, _to someone else_.

It was the handwritten note in the corner that had convinced him to go, _I hope you can make it…-B_.

It had taken two days for him to have his secretary RSVP a "yes." He weighted the foolishness of showing up without a date, but then he remembered her words the last time he saw her, _I don't know if I can ever be with you again_. He remembered her hurt—hurt that he had caused, and how after that day, he had done his best to let her go. Blair had been so shattered that he stopped her pain the only way he had known how—getting her as far away from his as possible. Not keeping tabs on her through a PI and unsubscribing to Gossip Girl had nearly killed him. Some days he wondered if she knew the strings he pulled and the anonymous donation he gave to get her a spot at Yale. He had wanted to give her a chance to heal, had wanted to give her time to open herself up again to him. And clearly, that had not worked.

He hoped that she wouldn't mind this small surprise he had planned for her. He wasn't lying when he had told her there was no plotting, but it was the only way he could show her how he felt without pressuring her to respond. It was his goodbye, a love letter, if you would.

The clickity-clack of her footsteps caused him to turn around. Her timing had always been flawless. As the current song playing was coming to a close, Chuck held out his hand. Blair rolled her eyes and allowed him to twirl her into his arms, as she heard the opening strains to the song he had arranged to be played.

_Our romance won't end on a sorrowful note,_

_Though by tomorrow you're gone;_

_The song is ended, but as the songwriter wrote,_

_The melody lingers on._

_They may take you from me, I'll miss your fond caress._

_But though they take you from me, I'll still possess._

Her eyes widened, "Chuck, you didn't…"

_The way you wear your hat_  
_The way you sip your tea_  
_The memory of all that_  
_No, no, they can't take that away from me_

He smiled sadly, "It's the only way I could think of to say goodbye."

_The way your smile just beams_  
_The way you sing off key_  
_The way you haunt my dreams_  
_No, no, they can't take that away from me_

Blair's hand tightened on his shoulder as she looked up at him, and drew his head down so their foreheads touched, and their eyes were glued to each other.

_We may never, never meet again_  
_On the bumpy road to love_  
_Still, I'll always, always keep the memory of_

A tear slid down, Blair's cheek, as she stifled a sob. Chuck raised a hand, and as he brushed away the tear, he cradled her face. She pulled away and laid her head on his chest as his arms tightened around her. She clung to him.

_The way you hold your knife_  
_The way we danced till three_  
_The way you changed my life_  
_No, no, they can't take that away from me_  
_No, they can't take that away from me_

They stood there together in an embrace, long after the music had ended. They had not known that three sets of eyes were bearing witness to their intimate goodbye—Serena and Nate from one corner, and Louis in another.

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Chuck had kissed her on the shoulder before immediately leaving after their dance on the balcony. She had gone directly to the private ladies room to compose herself. And although Blair gave the complete impression that she was the happy bride-to-be, she felt the furtive glances from Serena and Nate. It amazed her how true to his word Chuck had been. The gesture had been so unexpected and thoughtful—he had behaved like a perfect gentleman. If she had not thought of Louis once during their dance or throughout most of the night, what was she doing engaged? In the less than four minutes she had been in Chuck's arms, she had felt like she was _home_. She had to talk to him, _tonight_.

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_**tbc

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A/N- In case you are wondering some minor details...

Jo Stockton is the name of the character that Audrey Hepburn played in the movie Funny Face (my favorite Audrey flick, by far). And the dress, of course you can google "Audrey Hepburn Funny Face" and voila!

The song is "They Can't Take That Away From Me" by the Gershwins. Also, the version that I have in my story would be the Fred Astaire version from the "Fred Astaire: Stepping Out" album, because it's male vocals, slowed down to a pace that suits the scene as well as having the intro that isn't in most other versions…although my favorite version is, of course, the Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong one.

For the most amazing beta in the world, Noirreigne, who understands my need to post this during a time where there is a serious lack of Chair fics out there, and has opted not to admonish me on temporarily halting work on Mad About You until _**this**_ story is resolved.

And for my beta-ee Chris2035, who I love, just because she is adorable and has listened to my rantings.

I've been writing like a madwoman, and my goal is to have this completed before the new episode of GG airs. This storyline has been brewing since 4x05 aired.


	2. louis, louis

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - 'if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.

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The doorbell rang again, as Louis hurried down the stairs to see to the visitor before Blair woke up. He had been unable to sleep all night, and he shook his head when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. With a sigh, he composed himself and opened the door.

He had not expected to see Chuck Bass standing in front of him.

"Hello, is Blair in?" The gravelly voice of his rival sounded. "I do realize it's a bit early with the party last night, but I'm an old friend and had hoped to have a moment with her before I caught my flight back to New York."

With a veiled smile, Louis extended his hand, "A friend of Blair's is a friend of mine. Louis Grimaldi, her fiancé. And you are?"

The tight smile on Blair's former lover's lips was noted. "Chuck Bass."

"Pleased to meet you, Chuck." Louis was going to make this as difficult and uncomfortable as possible. If there was anything he could do to prevent himself from losing Blair, now would be the time. "I'm sorry, but she's still deep asleep. I ran down, hoping to prevent the doorbell from waking her up."

He shot a conspiratorial wink at Chuck, "We were up all night, _celebrating_. My Blair, is so passionate."

The grim look that crossed his guest's face was a small victory. Louis continued, "I don't remember Blair mentioning you before, how is it that you two know each other?"

"We're childhood friends," Chuck said. Then he corrected himself, "Well, since junior high."

Louis smiled easily back at him, nodding politely, as his mind ransacked all the details his investigators had found out about his nemesis. Until last night, Louis had thought this chapter of Blair's life had been closed. But when he saw the pair dancing at _his_ engagement party, he could feel Blair slipping away from him. It had been nearly impossible to guilt her into staying at their townhouse last night. Even now, he had begun to dread the serious talk she wished to have with him once she awoke.

He had never wanted to look into Blair's past, but his parents had told him that if he were going to marry her, no matter how delightful and ideal she had been, then he had better make sure there were _no_ surprises. Louis had remembered her beautiful sorrow the second time they had met, nearly five years ago. When he had told her it was fate for them to run into one another again, he had asked for a date. The sadness in her eyes told a whole new story, and he had been surprised when she politely turned him down. Blair had said that when they first met, she was trying to get over a broken heart that had been broken again, by the same person. When she said that he was far too lovely to be subjected to her melancholy, Blair had won him over. His mother often told him he was far too romantic and was too easily led astray by the promise of a grand love story.

Perhaps his mother had been right, but it did not stop him from handwriting her letters that were delivered first to her penthouse in New York and then to her Yale dormitory, once a week for the next six months. He had made certain the letters were written on the most elaborate stationary, often rewriting them several times, just so they had that perfectly cinematic feel to them. He would enclose a pressed flower with each note, hoping that she would bend and embark on the potential of a great romance. Louis had never once forgotten how sweet she had tasted when they kissed that past summer. And he had often regretted not chasing her to Manhattan, with her shoe in hand, begging for a second chance.

When she had returned the following summer, she had allowed him to woo her. At the end of the three months, he had been absolutely certain that he wanted to marry her. She had been so different from the summer before, and if anything, more appealing. Blair's wit was sharp and she seemed less keen on impressing him, but there was a part of her that she kept locked up. Louis was convinced that given enough time, he would be able to earn the key to her heart and wholly possess her.

He had never even heard of Chuck Bass until he went to Yale for her birthday. Eleanor had gotten him a copy of the key to her new apartment off campus, so that he could surprise her. While he was waiting for her to arrive, a courier from Fred Leighton had knocked on the door, and he had signed for a small, yet exquisitely wrapped present. The card simply read, "It's not just past midnight, but happy birthday. I love you. –Chuck Bass". Louis had glared at the offensive package for close to an hour. When he heard Blair at the door, he had panicked and slipped the gift into his jacket pocket. Without fail, every year, no matter where they were, a courier would arrive with a perfectly wrapped jewelry box—it was Tiffany's the year after that, followed by Cartier the next, and Harry Winston last year. Like a guilty thief, Louis kept hiding gift after gift, each with a personalized note signed "I love you. –Chuck Bass".

But rather than question and accuse her, he waited for her to tell him about Chuck. It wasn't until a few months ago when he had actually decided to propose that his parents had handed him a box full of files that had been compiled throughout their courtship. The largest file—it filled nearly half the box—was the file on Charles Bartholomew Bass. When he had poured through the contents of that folder, he had realized that this entire time, he had been competing with someone for Blair's love, and he had never known it. There had to be more to the story than the cold impersonal files told, but suddenly things clicked into place. The once proud Manhattanite, never mentioned missing her childhood home. Her best friend Serena, Chuck's adoptive stepsister, was no longer as close as they had been when he had first met her. There were other small details that started to add up—how she never wanted to eat sea bass, that she had banished him from wearing scarves unless it was below 40 degrees or snowing and how she seemed to detest limos with a passion.

A cough interrupted his thoughts. With an apologetic smile, Louis hastily said, "My apologies, I am a man who is hopelessly in love with his future wife."

Chuck shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Could I offer you some tea? Coffee? A glass of scotch?"

Louis saw Chuck glance at his watch briefly. It was obvious that he was debating whether or not Blair would wake up if he partook in a beverage. Louis also worried about the same thing, and thought that perhaps niceties should be ignored and he should take the necessary steps to remove Chuck Bass from his house, and hopefully from their lives. He stood and went to his cabinet and poured two glasses of scotch. As Louis placed a glass in front of the unwelcome visitor, he spoke softly, "I can see there is going to be no way to avoid this conversation."

"Excuse me?" Chuck asked as his fingers clutched at his glass.

"I know who you are," he said simply.

"And who am I?" Chuck sneered at him.

"You're Blair's ex-lover."

"So you know about me?" he asked uncertainly.

Louis gave a long, labored sigh. "She asked me to pretend not to know who you were, so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable that she had moved on. She was uncertain if you had."

He could feel Chuck's eyes follow him as he walked across the room to his wall safe. His desperation to know what Blair had "said" about him was obvious. "She had hoped that inviting you to our engagement party would let you see that she had moved on—permanently."

"Is she really asleep?" Chuck's voice sounded pained. Louis stopped from flinching, telling himself that she had already agreed to be _his_, he was only protecting what he had fairly won.

Flashing a smile of pity, he continued, "Yes, she is. But she had also suspected that you might come and try to see her. She asked that I intercept you if at all possible and return these to you."

The four nails to his coffin were placed directly in front of Chuck. He could see Chuck's discomfort as the no doubt expensive gifts that lay unopened in front of him. Both men knew that Blair had a weakness for jewelry, and for her to have left them untouched for all these years, must have meant something.

Louis heard the chair scraping from his post by the window.

"I apologize for any inconvenience or discomfort I may have caused." Chuck picked up the impeccably wrapped boxes of jewelry that he had painstakingly selected for her. He must have completely misread the signals from her last night. It was time for him to admit that maybe, he didn't know her as well as he had thought. Five years could change someone—he of all people knew that. "I wish you and Blair every happiness. Neither of you will hear from me again."

As Chuck reached the door, Louis' voice had him pausing for a moment.

"I am sorry it had to be like this. But take solace in knowing that I make Blair very happy, and I would never hurt her."

Chuck remained silent before he issued a warning, "If you so much as hurt one strand of hair on her head, I will hunt you down and destroy you."

Without waiting for a response he opened the door and walked out of Blair and Louis' life. Chuck could not see Louis sag against the door in relief. When he reached his limo, he flung the gifts against the seat as he reached for his phone and dialed a familiar number. When Henry picked up, he barked, "Forget what I told you last night, I need you in Paris, immediately."

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"I heard voices. Who was it?"

As Louis firmly shut the door behind him, it was apparent that Blair had woken up. Thankfully she had not been tempted to join him in the painful charade he had just performed. She was curled up in the window seat that overlooked their sumptuous garden. Blair had not bothered to dress, simply throwing the cream, silk robe over her matching nightgown.

"Someone trying to sell something—I got rid of him," he answered. In truth, he wasn't lying, exactly, Chuck was trying to get Blair to give him a second chance, or was it a fourth or fifth?

"Good, I don't want to be interrupted for our talk," she said calmly. She hadn't even looked over at him, couldn't see the bags under his eyes from his lack of sleep, hoping that she would wake up that morning having changed her mind. He had felt her on the precipice of calling off their engagement last night. He knew from the moment she had tried to evade coming home, that she had wanted to seek _him_ out. Oddly enough, or perhaps not odd at all, Serena and Nate had come to his rescue. They clearly knew much more than he did.

"Blair—"

"Did you know I invented the 'Nairtini'?" She asked in an eerily serene voice. "In case you don't know, 'Nair' is a hair removal product. It's a cream, actually, it makes your hair dissolve and you can just wipe it away."

Louis was extremely confused. Hair removal? What was she talking about?

"And in high school, when I was Queen B of Constance Billard School for Girls, if you upset or crossed me, it was common knowledge that one of my minions would pour the cream into a martini glass and 'trip' while walking past you, and it would land in your hair, quite close to your scalp," she continued.

Louis gasped. What a terrible thing to do to another girl at that age when they were all so insecure and unsure of themselves. "Blair, why are you telling me this? Surely you did not do this?"

That was the moment she chose to turn and meet his shocked eyes. "That's actually mild in comparison to what I did when I was _really_ upset. Do you remember our first date? When you were pretending to be a chauffer and your driver pretended to be you?"

He nodded. Blair broke their gaze and resumed staring out the window.

"I pushed Serena into the fountain because I was irritated that she had landed the prince, and I, the pauper. I was also mad at her, because she was going to attend Columbia that fall with me, and I didn't want to compete with her anymore."

"I cannot believe that you would do that to Serena, she's your best friend, no?"

"Oh, she is. When she came back from boarding school junior year in high school, I found out that she had slept with Nate, who was my boyfriend at the time. During Ivy Week, that's when the students would vie for a spot to host the representative of an upper echelon university, I announced that Serena was a patient at the Ostroff Treatment Center."

"What kind of place is that?"

He was further alarmed when he saw a small wistful smile on her face, "It's a facility for the disturbed or addicted."

"You are smiling! Are you proud of what you did?"

"No, Louis, not at all. I'm smiling at a memory attached to that situation," she explained.

"Why are you telling me these things? Are you trying to scare me from marrying you?"

"Did you know that I was going to sleep with Chuck's uncle so he could get back his hotel?"

"So this is about Chuck?" Louis demanded, not wanting to hear any more of her confessions.

"And that I convinced myself that it wasn't a big deal, because I had already slept with him, once before?"

He stood in front of her. She wouldn't even look at him, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, "Why are you doing this? Why now?"

"Don't you want to know who you're planning on marrying?" She finally looked at him again. "Does knowing these things make you not love me anymore?"

"I know all about Chuck and his uncle," he admitted. He stood up and crossed the room.

"How?"

"My parents had you checked out, there was a copy of your contract with Jack somewhere in there, and with all the Gossip Girl posts, it wasn't hard to put two and two together," he didn't know if it should bother him more that she hadn't even reacted to that news. But then again, it had shown up in his investigations that Bart Bass had had her thoroughly researched before she had even turned eighteen.

"Do you want to know about the time I lied that Serena's boyfriend, Dan Humphrey, was having an affair with a teacher, because she had given me a B+ on an essay, and I couldn't have anything less than a perfect transcript to get into Yale? I mean, in the end, it wasn't a lie, I just hadn't known that at the time."

"Blair, these are things only a bratty child would do. You were a different person then, surely you are not the same person now?"

"Who are you trying to convince, Louis? Me or yourself?" Blair asked gently. "It's okay if you don't know if you love me anymore. I may not have intended to do so, but I feel as if I've misled you, egregiously."

"Why is it only now that you feel I have been misled?" His mind raced, had she developed some sort of conscience? When she spoke of these behaviors, he couldn't ignore just that tiny hint of pride behind her crimes, perhaps she was not boldly proud, but she definitely was not ashamed.

"Because I know what it is liked to be loved, for every part of me—dark, devious and unkind. Last night, I realized that I had hidden a part of me away from you that you did not, could not, know. And because I love you, I don't want to hurt you," she confessed.

"You love me, yet you want to destroy my vision of you?"

"That's the problem, Louis, you only see part of me. The part of me that being with you has made better, but it isn't all of me."

"I have always _wanted_ to see all of you. I had hoped that if I waited patiently, with time you would open yourself up to me," he revealed. "I knew back then, that there was part of you that you didn't share with anyone. Only I had never imagined it to be like this. I thought you were hiding away a part of you that was kind and compassionate, but I am wrong. You are practically beaming from having told me your past transgressions."

"I'm sorry, Louis—sorry that you see things that way. But it'll be much easier for you to move on if you know the truth. I'm not that perfect princess you think I am—I mean, I am, but there are imperfect parts, too."

"Was this just a game to you? Did you ever love me?"

Blair shuddered. Hearing the same words that Chuck asked her the night she said goodbye to him almost five years ago, were now coming out of Louis' mouth. She noted the irony that she would be responding in a similar fashion, "I love you—but I'm not _in_ love with you."

"So this is goodbye?" Louis asked woodenly.

She looked down at the magnificent heirloom engagement ring that had never felt like it belonged to her. Her mind had always fallen back to the flawless, 8 carat, cushion cut one in a tapered baguette setting. Why she had fought her destiny all this time, she did not know. As she twisted the ring off her finger, she stood up. She walked up to him and placed the ring in his palm. "I'm sorry."

He closed his eyes as he leaned against the door and silently nodded his head. "I'll have the staff send your things back to Manhattan?"

She didn't argue, but remained silent. He was such a lovely person, and she hated hurting him any more than she already had. Finally, as the minutes stretched she said, "I'll be out of the house within an hour."

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_**tbc

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A/N: Dedicated as always to one and only Noirreigne who has managed to find time to beta ever so quickly while juggling her monstrously busy holiday season.

And to the readers and reviewers, thank you so much for reading and reviewing, it is always appreciated. I have a long and twisty road to go, and there is angst in spades, balanced by some humor and insight, I hope. So we continue on…


	3. great unexpectations

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - 'if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.

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It had been entirely unfun explaining to her mother and her three fathers that the engagement was off. Their reactions had been varied, and expectedly unexpected. It wasn't _what_ had been said, rather, _who_ had been the one saying what. Blair hadn't quite known how to respond to their responses. After her pronouncement that Louis and her had agreed to part ways, it had been Eleanor who had broken the ice asking, _You couldn't have decided _before_ we paid for the engagement party?_ There had been about twenty million questions dancing in her eyes, but Eleanor opted to keep her mouth shut from voicing any of them at present.

Roman had draped himself over her, in his attempts to console. Harold had looked at her quizzically, _What happened? Why now?_ She had seen the hint of _What did you do?_ beneath the surface. Blair had to bite her tongue from snapping back _I left him, not the other way around._

Cyrus was the one who had blindsided her with his response. Just as she had taken a deep breath and was about to give a condensed and acceptable explanation to her parents, Cyrus had interrupted her. _Not enough, I say! You didn't love him enough to begin with. Have you told Chuck, yet?_

The mention of Chuck had all three other parental figures dropping their jaws and looking over at her in shock. The cacophony of voices emphasizing the name _Chuck Bass_ had Blair turning bright red. Before she could even answer, Cyrus had just barreled on about how he thought he had seen him at the engagement party last night, lurking in the shadows of the terrace. Had Blair finally realized that absence makes the heart grow fonder? Cyrus had hoped she would realize this _before_ the wedding.

Instead of being met with more questions, her parents, all four of them, waited patiently for her to gather her wits and explain herself. They did not interrupt once, and when she was finished, they took turns hugging and kissing her and telling her that they just wanted her to be happy. There wasn't a hint of judgment or anger, and she couldn't help but get teary-eyed.

At some point, Eleanor must have waived her father figures out, or dispatched them on errands, because the two women were alone in the sitting room of the Rose apartment. Blair braced herself for a more stern discussion, as her mother patted the empty seat on the sofa next to her. She hesitated for a moment, before stretching out and resting her head on her mother's lap, as she often had done as a child. A smile crossed her face, when she felt her mother stroking her hair. She recalled how when she was younger, she would curl up next to Eleanor who would sketch and mumble while absently stroking Blair's hair with her left hand.

Finally Eleanor broke the comfortable silence, "Darling, you are certain about this decision, right?"

Blair sighed. "Mother, could we please skip the subtext today? Just ask me what it is you want to know, or say whatever it is you want to say."

"It's just the last time we talked about Chuck, do you remember what you said?"

Blair shook her head and closed her eyes.

"You said that every time you were around him, you felt like a weak little girl."

"I remember it now, the night of my 20th birthday party. You told me Cyrus had taught you that sometimes you have to allow yourself to be weak, to grow stronger," she said wryly.

"Then why do I feel like you haven't allowed yourself to be weak this entire time?"

Blair sat up and looked at her mother. She crossed her arms defensively, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ever since you arrived in Paris for Thanksgiving that year, it's as though you have been running—hiding from who you were. Anne called me and told me what had happened with Girls Inc., and your involvement with Chuck. Then you suddenly appeared on our doorstep and have barely been back to New York since. I don't know how you got into Yale for the spring semester, or who pulled the strings, but it was almost as if the world was helping your run from yourself."

"Yale had always been a dream of mine," Blair said tightly. "There was no way I was going to turn it down. I was just fulfilling the goals I had set out for myself, I wasn't _running away_."

"Are you sure? I mean, Louis Grimaldi is nothing to sneeze at, but it seemed awfully convenient that you were aiming to relocate here. Except for quick jaunts into the city to visit Dorota and Anastasia, you act as though you were born a Parisian. And I hate to say this, but you've lost some of your spark. I was reminded of this for a brief hour last evening, when you were glowing and practically gliding around the party. I had hoped it was because you were finally happy. But Cyrus' revelation can only mean it had to do with Chuck?"

Blair frowned.

"I'm not criticizing you. Truthfully, I'm relieved. Deciding to end this engagement is probably the most 'Blair Waldorf' thing you've done in the past five years," Eleanor surmised.

She was stunned. Her mother couldn't possibly know what she had said to Chuck all those years ago. This whole time she had thought that being away from him would have made it easier to be herself. Blair must have given a spectacular performance, if she had even convinced herself that this version was real. If her mother had seen through this farce, than she had been playing the role of an imposter since the moment she walked away from him. A bittersweet smile crossed her face as she recalled words from a painful Paris memory, _But it wouldn't be my world without you in it_.

"Do you mean that? Why didn't you say anything?" Blair asked uncertainly.

"Because you were growing up and becoming an adult. There have been large chunks in your life that I was barely a mother to you, and I couldn't just pick that moment to make up for lost time. It's your life, Blair, it was your decision."

"But if you knew I was making the wrong choice—"

"This was your mistake to make," Eleanor smoothly interrupted. "You had to learn this, on your own."

"So when you asked if I was certain…?" she trailed off.

"I wanted to make sure that it wasn't an impulse from the shock of seeing Chuck."

Blair shook her head. "It only confirmed it. Ever since I said 'yes' to Louis, I have been second-guessing myself and was trying to come to terms that it wasn't Chuck who had asked. The little girl in me still wanted the fairy tale—that Chuck would come back and sweep me off my feet."

"Well, it looks like he did." Eleanor put an arm around her daughter. "And I think it would be wise for you to allow yourself to explore that option."

"Really?" she asked shyly.

"Yes, really," her mother smiled at her. "Follow your heart."

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As Blair walked onto the street from Cyrus and Eleanor's apartment, she debated her next move. The conversation with her mother had been invigorating. It was worth all the hardships of her adolescence—the intense scrutiny, veiled comments and even insecurity—to have this version of Eleanor now. Blair couldn't help but feel buoyed with confidence that she had made the right decision. She marveled at her mother's words, she had not felt so much like Blair Waldorf, in a very long time.

Now all she really wanted to do was to go find Chuck and ask him if he really still had feelings for her. She hummed the song as she dreamily remembered his surprise last night, and she couldn't help but think that there had to be a hidden message in it. He _had_ come to her engagement party, hadn't he? There had to be more than just a morsel or two of leftover sentiment, there just had to be! But as much as she wanted to bury herself in rediscovering the landscape of emotions Chuck inspired, it would have to wait. It might be for the best if she waited until she returned to the UES before she tested out the waters.

Nate was supposed to meet her at one of the bars at the Ritz Paris in about an hour. She had wanted some alone time with him before they met Serena for dinner. The gulf that stretched between her and Serena over the years had not changed the fact that Blair had asked her to be her maid of honor. But somehow, after everything that had happened between her and Chuck, it had been Nate that had turned into her confidant and closest friend. She could feel the resentment in Serena's voice during the increasingly infrequent times they spoke on the phone. And she was already mentally bracing herself for the combination of anger and hurt that would be caused when Serena found out that she had told Nate first. Besides, it would be confirmed that the engagement had been called off, when they saw her finger ring-less and her fiancée-less.

Last night she had tried to leave her own engagement party to seek Chuck out—to ask why he had left her alone all these years only to make such a lovely and grand gesture now. When Nate and Serena had essentially blocked every attempt for her to exit, and Louis became overly attentive, the mounting guilt caused her to temporarily give up her quest. In truth, Blair knew she should make this decision before she spoke to Chuck. She was not ending this engagement _for_ Chuck, despite the fact that it was prompted _because _of him.

As she entered the hotel, she debated which of the five bars she should wait at. She had always been partial to the Ritz Bar with the Victorian Era red velvet armchairs, box-beamed ceilings and crown moldings balanced by hints of modern touches. A Hendrick's gin martini would hit the spot while she waited for her two closest friends to arrive.

When she dropped into one of the plush chairs, a member of the staff quickly approached her and took her order. She had chosen a chair that faced the main entry so she could wave Nate over later. There was a large mirror hanging in front of her that reflected the rest of the room. She took a large sip of her martini that had been delivered when from the corner of her eye, she recognized a familiar face—perhaps her favorite familiar face. Her heart skipped a beat as she drank in the sight of Chuck aimlessly swirling his glass of scotch as he sat at the bar. _This had to be fate_. Blair's eyes darted to her own reflection, quickly checking to make sure she was presentable.

As she tucked an errant strand behind her ear and was about to stand up, she saw a woman approaching Chuck. She was a petite Asian woman, with very short-cropped black hair and perfect, almond shaped eyes. She wore a simple yet tasteful dress and nothing about her screamed 'hussy' or 'slut'. If anything, her beauty was incredibly understated. Blair froze as she watched the scene unfold—the woman placing her hands over Chuck's eyes.

"Did you miss me?" she said. Blair didn't even have to strain her ears to catch the words. Unconsciously she leaned back to get closer. With the bar half-empty, it made it easier for her to eavesdrop.

"Desperately," Chuck said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. She continued to watch them from the mirror, praying that the attentive staff would _not_ choose now to come back over and check in with her.

Chuck removed the hands that covered his eyes, as he swiveled on his bar stool to face the woman. He all but flung himself into her arms, holding her tightly.

"How much did you miss me?" The stranger demanded.

Blair's heart was pounding so loudly she almost missed Chuck's answer.

"As far as the eye can see and back."

"I suppose that will do." The woman teased.

Blair stared as Chuck stood up and swung the woman around in a circle, her laughter dancing around the room. Blair was transfixed as Chuck gently set her down, and the woman brought a hand to his face, softly stroking it. She wished she could see Chuck's face, she wanted to study his reaction—to see if she could discern exactly who and what this woman was to him. Was he simply being charming or was she someone he was serious about? He had told her last night that he wasn't seeing anyone—not that it would have effected her decision to end things with Louis—but she had not expected this.

"Why don't we get out of here?" Blair heard her ask.

"What would I do without you?" Chuck said charmingly.

"Fortunately for you, you'll never have to find out. You're stuck with me, forever."

"Thank god!" Chuck said seriously. He reached into his pocket, and threw a few bills on the bar and then turned to the mystery lady. "Thank you for coming, I don't know what I would've done."

"Well…you have the rest of our lives to make it up to me," she answered lightly, as she held out her hand. He laced his fingers with hers, and they walked out of the bar towards the lobby. As the pair waited for the elevator, he snaked his arm around her, holding her close to him with such familiarity, that Blair felt nauseous. When they stepped into the empty car, the woman was pulling Chuck's head towards her, and Blair forced herself to look away before she could see anything more.

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_**tbc

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A/N: Sorry to leave you with a cliffhanger, but that's how I roll.

OH, and oy vey! I hadn't expected the onslaught of hatred towards Louis…just goes to show that you can't predict other people's interpretations of your characterizations! Except for a reference here and there, he is gone. Just note that the only thing he did badly was the hiding of Chuck's presents, and that was out of fear of losing Blair, but I imagine he was the most boringly sweet boyfriend, ever. AND, Blair was already ending it, that's why he didn't fight back. I ramble.

To the fabulous, Noirreigne, who betas my work instead of doing better things with her time.

For my readers and reviewers, thank you, thank you! for continuing with me on this road of controlled chaos. Next update will be in a few days!


	4. something about serena

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - 'if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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By the time Nate had arrived, Blair was glassy-eyed and deeply studying the half drunken martini in front of her. He repeated her name twice, and went so far as to wave his hand in her face, with no response. As he thought to reach over and tap her on the shoulder, she suddenly clutched at the glass. The absence of her rather ostentatious engagement ring (_heirloom or not_—he had never told her that it had been so big, it border-lined on being gauche) triggered an alarm. He crept back slowly while he dismissed the attendant walking towards him. Blair continued to be completely oblivious to her surroundings and in her own world.

He walked up to guest services and punched in Serena's room number.

"Hello?" she asked curiously.

"Serena, it's me."

"Nate, is something wrong? We're meeting at the bar in an hour, aren't we?"

"Before you get upset, just let me finish, okay?"

He could hear her cross her arms and feel her face wrinkle into a frown.

"Fine," she said petulantly.

"Blair and I were going to meet for pre-drink, drinks before we met with you," he confessed.

Serena's anger was radiating through the phone, but she said nothing.

"I just got to the bar and she's staring off into space and didn't hear me call her name or react to me waving my hand in front of her face." He paused. "And the ring is no longer on her finger."

"You don't think that Ch—"

"Don't even _think_ it. Get down here right now, and put aside your pride for tonight, and just be her best friend. Be the 'S' to her 'B', like high school," he said firmly.

"Okay. I'll be down there in a couple of minutes."

"The Ritz Bar."

"Well, duh! That's Blair's favorite one, where else would we be meeting?"

"Not tonight, Serena, please."

"Fine."

Nate grimaced as she slammed the phone down. He _hated_ being caught between the two of them. This was worse than when they were in high school and it was about love. He never quite got the whole story from Blair, about why she had started to pull away. His mother had mentioned something about how interesting she found it that two of his ex-girlfriends applied to be the face of the committee she was stepping down from. He figured it must have been one of their typical competitive games they liked to play when they were feeling insecure. But Blair had taken the first flight out to Paris, and spent almost a full two weeks there.

When she had returned, he hadn't quite recognized her. It wasn't that she looked or acted particularly different, she had just felt—_off_. At first he thought that it was about her and Chuck's official breakup, _again_. But then, he noticed that Chuck had been acting equally strange. Instead of like last time with Chuck playing covert mind games and sending spies to keep an eye on Blair, he never spoke her name. In fact, he didn't drown himself in alcohol or hookers, he was possibly the most subdued version of Chuck Bass that he had seen in some time. And this time Blair hadn't issued her usual _don't mention his name to me_ decrees. They both acted as though the other didn't—hadn't existed.

It was actually Serena who had been the one who told him that Blair had somehow managed to get accepted to Yale for the Spring 2011 semester. Both girls had been surprised when the letter had been delivered, but there was a personal note from Dean Berube saying that after reviewing her transcripts from NYU and speaking with Dean Reuther from Columbia, they would be re-extending her admittance. Serena had mentioned that Blair hadn't looked so much excited as she looked relieved, as though she had finally found a place to run to. And of course, Serena being Serena had confronted Blair about it, which should have turned into a typical S/B fight with both of them saying hateful things before apologizing. Instead, Blair had been eerily calm and just brushed it off, telling Serena not to worry that she could stay at the Waldorf's penthouse as long as she wanted. The first tear in the breach had started that night.

From that moment it was as though nothing Serena said or did could get through to her. As strange as it sounded, Blair stopped being a _bitch_. She still made pithy and caustic remarks and was a snob, but she stopped going out of her way to make other people feel uncomfortable. Her minions had been dismissed, and Blair was completely focused on transferring to Yale and not looking back. Nate had actually been so wrapped up with his father getting released from prison, that he had gotten distracted and blown both of the girls off.

It wasn't until mid-April when the Captain had gotten a job and secured his own lodgings, that Nate came up for air. While his friends were a different kind of family, he had spent the better part of those months restructuring a relationship with his father—one that didn't consist of insurmountable demands and expectations this time around. His father had asked about Blair, and that's when Nate realized he hadn't spoken to her since her first week at Yale. Inspired, he took the train out there that very weekend, and showed up at her dorm room.

Blair had been surprised, yet genuinely pleased to see him. They had had fun walking around campus, and pointing out the things they were 'supposed' to do when they were going to attend Yale _together_. That weekend was the only time she ever spoke to him about Chuck. She had heard about Lily trying to sell Bass Industries from under him, and it had tormented her that she hadn't reached out to him. Blair had been inconsolable that night, confiding all the painful ebbs and flows and her decision to walk away. She had wondered if she was being selfish trying to build a life for herself, while his world was crumbling. Nate had assured her that Chuck had everything well in hand, and that if they were ever going to figure out whatever it was between them, then Chuck needed to do this on his own. It would be too easy for them to find any excuse to come back to one another if she did so now.

"Come on, Nate," Serena tapped him on his shoulder, breaking him away from his thoughts. "You seem to be suffering the same symptoms that you said Blair had."

"Sorry," Nate grinned, sheepishly. But soon his grin turned serious, "What are we going to do? Do we need a game plan?"

"We're not Blair and Ch—" Serena stopped herself. "I think that maybe we should just let her tell us what she wants to and be supportive. Then I think maybe it should just be a girl's night with B and me, we'll watch Tiffany's and nibble on Pierre Herme macarons. In fact, let me go send the concierge out for them now."

Before Nate could say a word, Serena was already heading to the front desk charming the concierge to handle this special errand. He was a bit irritated, clearly she didn't realize that _he_ was the best friend here, and she had been called in as reinforcements, _not_ to take over. Recognizing how petty he was being for no particular reason—especially since he had been the one who requested her presence, he made himself amicable. Together, he and Serena walked into the bar—Blair hadn't moved an inch.

Serena reached over and tugged lightly on one of Blair's curls. _That_ caught her attention, and when Blair looked up, her eyes were full of tears, ready to spill down her cheeks. She shot them a wobbly smile and simply raised her left hand with the now empty finger. Serena wrapped her arms around Blair tightly as she started to cry.

"Do you want to get out of here, Blair?" Nate asked softly. "We can go anywhere you want."

"I think, maybe I should stay with S, tonight," she said through her sobs. "We can have breakfast, tomorrow, right?"

"Of course, Blair. Anything you want," Nate returned. He forced himself to smile easily while Serena shot him a triumphant look.

"I have someone going to Pierre Herme right now," Serena cooed. The two girls slipped their arms around one another and headed for the elevator. Serena gestured for Nate to take care of the bill, and mouthed, _I'll call you when she's asleep_, before disappearing into an elevator.

With Blair taken care of for the night and his company rendered useless, perhaps he ought to find Chuck and do some reconnaissance of his own. He easily charmed the front desk girl into confiding _Mr. Bass'_ suite number, and headed up. This was going to be a piece of cake. As he walked down the hall and past the room, the door was ajar. He was about to push open the door when he heard _her _voice say, "Please leave the tray here, that will be all."

Nate managed to move out of the way before the room service attendant ran into him, but he could clearly see the familiar woman in a fluffy bath robe call out, "Chuck, food's here."

He hadn't known that Chuck brought her with him. It looked as though he wouldn't be getting any answers tonight.

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Serena watched as Blair settled onto the bed studiously brushing her hair. She had sobbed all the way from the elevator to the room, and then flung herself on the empty bed and just cried. Serena busied herself by selecting a pair of pajamas for her to borrow, as well as handling the hotel staff member that brought up the Breakfast at Tiffany's dvd with three dozen macarons. Finally Blair had snapped out of it and gone into the bathroom, washed her face, changed and came out with brush in hand. The entire hour, she had not said a word.

"B?" She said cautiously.

"Hmmm?"

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Blair shook her head. Serena opened the first box of three and offered it to her. As Blair selected one, there was silence. Blair kept focusing on the macaron in her right hand, with the brush in her left. Minutes later, Blair asked, "Have you talked to Chuck, lately?"

So _not_ the response she had expected. Very carefully she said, "Well…we had lunch last month with Eric."

"So, you're speaking again?" Blair took a bite of the delectable treat, and just a hint of a smile crossed her face.

"We never stopped talking, exactly," Serena admitted.

"Really?"

"Really."

"I see."

"Is this going somewhere, B?" she questioned.

"Is he seeing anyone?" Blair continued her series of enigmatic questions.

Serena paused. She pictured _that woman's_ face in her head, the one Chuck always very deliberately referred to as his _favorite business associate_, and scowled. She didn't know how to answer this question appropriately, when she didn't exactly know. "I'm not sure."

"He said he wasn't seeing anyone," Blair offered.

"When did you talk to him?" Serena asked, feeling out how much she should admit she had seen.

"Last night, at the engagement—perhaps I should call it the un-engagement party." She took another small mouthful.

"I didn't even know he was invited."

"I sent him the invitation two weeks ago. He looked good, S, really good."

"Well, he is Chuck Bass," Serena joked.

"Is he still mad at you?" Blair continued.

"Are we really talking about this, right now?"

Blair nodded.

"He's…distant," she answered honestly. "And while he's not readily available, he's not necessarily unavailable, either."

"I see."

Serena looked over and watched as Blair got up from the bed, and sat on the window seat overlooking Paris—even the Eiffel Tower. Blair sat there silently nibbling on her macaron. Not knowing what would come of this, Serena thought about her two most uncomfortable memories regarding Chuck.

"_Why didn't you tell me your mom was trying to sell Bass Industries? I trusted her with my father's company!" He yelled at her. _

"_I found out by accident, I swear Chuck, I was going to tell you," she argued._

"_So reading about it on the cover of the Wall Street Journal is your way of telling me?"_

"_I wanted to, Chuck, I did," she begged._

"_What stopped you?"_

"_She told me that Jack was attempting a hostile takeover, that he had gotten some of the board members to side with him. The situation was dire, and this was the only way she could keep his hands off the company, because the board had already decided to vote against you."_

"_Well she was lying!" He exploded. "Jack wasn't even mentioned in the paper, and when I spoke to Pete Holmberg, he said that this was all Lily's idea, that she wanted to liquidate. That everyone was surprised, because they'd all assumed I would start taking over early next year."_

"_Chuck, I didn't know!"_

"_This is all I have left of my father, you know this, why wouldn't you tell me?"_

"_She's _mymother_, Chuck," Serena pled. _

_He stumbled back at those words, turned around and headed towards the doors. Just as Chuck was about to walk out, he paused and quietly said, "I thought she was supposed to be mine, too."_

Serena had not been able to sleep for the rest of that night. Guilt had driven her to call Blair, because she was the only one who would tell her how to make it right, the call at 3am had produced equally distressing results.

"_Did I mess up, B? When I didn't tell him that my mom was selling Bass Industries?" She used as an opening line._

_The sleepiness that had been in Blair's voice at 'hello', erupted into a shriek, "What?"_

"_My mom, she's selling BI from right under Chuck, she told me that it was Jack—"_

"_What the hell were you thinking not telling him? Serena, that's all he has left, Bass Industries!"_

"_I know, B, I know," Serena started crying uncontrollably. "I didn't know what to do, and she told me that she was trying to protect it from Jack, so that Chuck could get it back later."_

"_Who temporarily sells a billion dollar empire only to buy it back? I can't believe you would do this to him! Is he ok?"_

"_I don't know, he stormed out of here, and I spent the last 3 hours looking for him and I couldn't find him. I'm a mess, B, I can't sleep, I can't think. Tell me what to do," she begged._

"_You know what happened with Elizabeth last year. You were supposed to be his family, because _**I**_ can't be his family right now." Blair sobbed painfully. "He has never once turned his back on you. S, what have you done?"_

"_I don't know."_

_Both girls were weeping for a few minutes, before Blair blew her nose. "Go to the Empire's rooftop, if he's not there, wake up Nate and head over to Victrola. If he's not inside there, then you have check the—" _

"_You don't think, he'll—"_

"_GO, S! Call me when you find him and he's safe, and hurry!" _

She had found him just as Blair had said, at the Empire's rooftop. Strangely he wasn't drunk or suicidal. He just stood there with Bart's tie in one hand and the handwritten letter from the will in the other. Chuck had allowed her escort him back inside and told her not to worry but to please leave. She did as he asked and reported back to Blair in full detail, everything that happened. Blair had not spoken a word after her interrogation, but Serena had felt her fury when she hung up, and she didn't speak to her again until nearly summer. Between the power struggle between Chuck and Lily, her failed relationships with both Dan and Nate, and Blair shutting her out for the two months that it took for Chuck to wrestle control of BI back, she had no idea how she hadn't flunked out of Columbia.

When they met for the first time again in Paris over the summer, there was no mention of Chuck. Even though Blair started taking her calls again, she had refused to let Serena come to visit or see her when she dipped into the city for lunch dates with Dorota and Anastasia. The only way Serena was going to see Blair was if she traveled to Lyon and visited her at Harold's vineyard. She had not expected her to still be so furious at her, and at best, they had stilted, uncomfortable interactions. Serena had remained there for the full two weeks, just to show Blair how contrite she was, and how much she was willing to wait for the anger to subside. She had desperately wanted to tell her that if Chuck could forgive her—he had to an extent, why couldn't she.

After graduating from Yale, Blair had directly moved into a darling townhouse with Louis. It was clear that she planned on relocating to Paris, permanently. Louis was head-over-heels in love with Blair and doted on her completely. He had been a safe choice for her, after the tumultuousness of her and Chuck. As time passed, Serena often found herself wondering if her, Nate, Chuck and Blair were destined to drift apart and be friends no more.

Serena's woolgathering came to a close when Blair interrupted, "After spending less than five minutes with Chuck last night, I knew that I wasn't in love with Louis, I never had been. I called of the engagement this morning."

"Are you ok?" She walked over and sat across from Blair.

"Yes."

"And are you going to go look for Chuck?" she asked uncertainly.

"I believe he's otherwise disposed right now," Blair responded coolly. "Make no mistake, I did not end my engagement _for _Chuck."

"But you did _because of him_, right?" Serena said wisely. "You guys are inevitable."

"I'd like to think so," Blair said softly. "It doesn't matter though, I can't settle for anything less than I had with Chuck."

They were each wrapped in their own memories and thoughts.

"Are you ever going to forgive me for what I did to him?" Serena finally said.

"I'm trying to, now," she admitted.

"Because, I really, really miss my best friend, B."

"I miss mine, too, S."

The girls clutched each other's hands for a moment. "Nate really hates watching, Tiffany's, you know," Blair conceded.

"He doesn't like cappuccinos, either."

They smiled.

"I'm sorry, S," Blair apologized. "I think somewhere along the line, I was just mad at myself that you didn't automatically know that with me gone, you were supposed to be there for him."

"But, I should've known, B, we're the non-judging breakfast club. And he and I were the only two that were legally related," Serena said. "I should have tried to protect _him_ for a change."

"Do you think he'll forgive _me_ for not being there?" Blair asked in a small voice.

"More than looked like it from what Nate and I saw of the dance last night. Did he pick the song, too?"

Blair nodded as she blushed.

"That is sooooo sweet! Who knew that Chuck Bass was such a romantic?" Serena gushed, intentionally ignoring the laundry list of romantic gestures that he had done when trying to woo and keep Blair.

"I did," Blair said proudly.

After a pause, in a voice full of conviction she revealed, "And I'm moving back to Manhattan next week and I'm going to fight for him."

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_**tbc**_

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A/N: Are you still all in? More angst and drama to come! Personally, the next chapter is kind of my favorite.

OH, and _yes_, I _do_ know how to spell 'macaron', there is a difference between that and a 'macaroon'. The former being the French almond flour based ones that are sold at Pierre Herme, while the latter are the more typically American ones with coconut (bleh!). (Sometimes I obsess and like to google too much!)

For the marvelous Noirreigne, who is the best beta, E-V-E-R! I am so lucky to have found you! Thank you for finding the time to crank this out to me, especially since you are so under-the-weather!

Did you know I have some of the best readers and reviewers? I always appreciate your thoughts and your time. You'll be meeting Chuck's mystery woman in the next chapter which will be posted in a few days!


	5. crimes of dorota

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - 'if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.

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Blair took off her coat and handed it to the hostess. While the hostess darted off to hang her coat in the cloakroom, Blair took the time to take in her surroundings. Serena had assured her that she would love Solstice, a restaurant that had opened while she had lived in Paris. The décor had her smiling as she loved the tall cozy booths that lined both sides of the room. There were even sheer curtains that could be drawn to create a more intimate setting. As the hostess led her to the booth in the corner, she saw the surprised looks on both Chuck and Nate's face.

"I guess Serena didn't tell you she invited me?" Blair observed as she waited for both men to greet her.

"Blair! I wasn't expecting you until early next week! When did you get back?" Nate asked as he slid out of the booth to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I got in yesterday, but I was so exhausted that I forgot to call you," she smiled apologetically. She turned to Chuck, butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she noticed how even more handsome he looked than he had ten days ago at her engagement party in Paris.

Instead of standing up, Chuck simply nodded his head. There were no remnants of the stunned look that had previously been on his face, "Blair."

Serena's arrival masked her surprise at his rudeness.

"Look! Now that Blair's here, it's the non-judging breakfast club, back together again," Serena sing-songed. She gestured for Blair to slide into the booth, so she could sit down. "I say we start with a round of shots, for old time's sake!"

"Only you would want to start dinner with shots," Nate said fondly.

Chuck had remained silent, and Blair couldn't help but wonder at his coldness as she stared at him. He looked completely absorbed in reading the menu and ignored all of them.

"Why are there five place settings?" Serena demanded. "You know, Nate, when I invited myself to dinner with you and Chuck, it was to surprise you with Blair. Is someone else coming?"

"I invited Henry," Chuck said coolly, still not looking up from the menu. "I hadn't realized that you were attempting a reunion."

Serena scowled at her former step-brother and stuck her tongue out at him, "You are definitely getting grouchier with age."

"Why did you have to invite Henry?" Nate said exasperated.

"Who's Henry?" Blair asked.

"I enjoy Henry's company, I thought you did, too?" Chuck looked at his friend curiously, while effectively ignoring Blair's query. "You've never said anything before."

"That's probably because someone's a little cranky and still accusing me and Dorota of 'colluding' against him with our fantasy baseball trade," a feminine voice answered.

Four heads turned to the intruder, each eliciting a different response. Chuck smirked. Nate shook his head in chagrin. Serena pouted. Blair gasped.

It was the same woman she had seen with Chuck from Paris. How did she know Dorota? She watched speechless as Chuck's face lit up as she—_this was Henry?_— ruffled Nate's hair affectionately. Henry continued, "Are you still sore that I now have Tim Lincecum, Felix Hernandez and Stephen Strausburg as my starting pitchers? I can't wait to destroy you when we play head-to-head next week. I think when I beat you, I'll have you eat pig's feet."

Serena interrupted, "Nate doesn't like digesting any form of pork, unless it's bacon! One would think you knew this by now with all your outlandish food bets."

Henry shot her an odd look that was an unspoken, _that's kind of the point_.

Nate crossed his arms and glared, "You know, I'm not the only one who's upset about this. Carson and Tommy also think you two are cheating. You guys did this in Fantasy Football last year and Basketball this year."

"Are you mad that the two girls are beating you boys? Pfft! And Dorota told me to tell you, that we're doing a keeper league from now on, so get over it! Are you going to move so I can sit down, or are you going to be a big baby all night? I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to the Mets-Yankees game tomorrow night, but maybe I'll take Anastasia instead. At least her behavior will be age appropriate!"

"How do you know Dorota?" Blair couldn't help but blurt out.

"Excuse me?" The woman turned her head and met Blair's eyes. Blair noted the almost imperceptible widening of eyes before the mystery woman stretched out her hand, "Henrietta Park, Henry, for short."

"Blair Waldorf," she returned. The handshake of two delicate, perfectly manicured hands was surprisingly firm. Blair was distracted when Chuck moved Nate out of the booth, so he could greet Henry with a big hug and a lingering kiss on the cheek, before whispering something in her ear. Henry pulled back, and lightly hit Chuck on the shoulder with a smirk of her own.

As Henry sat between both of Blair's ex-boyfriends, she flashed a tight smile to Serena, who returned an equally unhappy one. "Dorota is my partner in crime in fantasy sports. How do you know Dorota?"

"She's been my family's maid, since I was a little girl," Blair said haughtily.

Blair watched as Henry whirled to face Nate. But it was Chuck's behavior that commanded her attention, which consisted of putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her closer to him. Again he whispered something in her ear, and Henry narrowed her eyes and whispered right back.

"It's rude to whisper at the table when other people are present," Serena said loudly. "Henry, we're going to do shots to celebrate B's official return to Manhattan—permanently. Would you like one?"

"Sure, whatever you guys are having," Henry waved her hand at Serena. Despite the irritation at being dismissed, Serena craved the alcohol, and flagged down a waiter to take the order.

"Permanently?" Chuck scoffed. "Have you informed your fiancé?

Nate and Serena immediately looked up at the ceiling as if it were the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. Henry started studying the cutlery intensely.

Blair cleared her throat nervously, and met Chuck's quizzical gaze, as she sheepishly raised her left hand, now devoid of an engagement ring.

"When?" Chuck hissed.

"The morning after the engagement party," Blair said softly.

"You are unbelievable—" Chuck seethed, before Henry clamped her hand over his mouth. Blair watched in fascination as Henry, grabbed Chuck by the chin, and started communicating to him silently. Chuck kept nodding his head in the affirmative while Henry shook hers in the negative.

"This is awkward," Nate mumbled. In order to take attention off the pair, Nate met Blair's gaze and explained, "A couple of years ago, two of the guys on my old lacrosse team decided to drop out of our fantasy sports league, and I asked Henry to join, because she's a sports nut. I ran into Dorota and Vanya at the Palace, and was going to recruit Vanya, when Dorota volunteered, saying she was the commissioner of _all_ her leagues—she has six different ones! She and Henry have been in cahoots since last year and now neither of them will quit. It's very annoying."

"How interesting," Serena said sarcastically to Nate. Turning to Chuck and Henry she asked pointedly, "Are the three of us disturbing you? Would you like us to leave?"

Henry coughed, "Actually, Chuck and I are going to leave."

"What?" Serena, Nate and Blair cried out.

Henry smiled uncomfortably as she said, "Sorry but the reason that I got here late was because of an emergency at Bass Industries, and it really can't wait until the morning." With a pointed glare at Chuck she continued, "We need to leave _now_."

Chuck looked furious, as though he were to about to erupt. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before sliding out of the booth after Henry, "I'm sorry to cut the evening short, but we do need to get back. Guys, dinner's on me."

"It was nice to meet you, Blair," Henry offered.

"You're such an ass, Chuck!" Serena said miffed. "That goes double for you Henry."

Henry rolled her eyes. Chuck shrugged before he nodded at Nate, and took Henry's hand. With a completely insincere smile at Blair, he maliciously bit out, "I really am sorry to hear about the end of your engagement, Waldorf, but then again, I can't say I'm too surprised. Welcome back."

Henry smacked Chuck upside the head, and apologized, "He's a bit cranky."

As the two made their way out of the restaurant, hand in hand, they all could see Henry sniping at a sullen Chuck. Silence descended on the table, as both Nate and Serena refused to make eye contact with her. The waiter chose that moment to arrive with five shots of Macallan 25 years old.

"Why don't you bring us four more?" Blair said as she reached for one and gestured for Serena and Nate to take one, too.

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"Hello?" The sleepy, yet gruff voice finally answered the phone.

"Why are you mad at me?" It had taken six calls before he had picked up. That did _not_ seem right.

"Blair?"

"Who else would be calling you this late at night?"

She heard him sigh deeply, "Are you drunk?"

"Of course I am! You know, you were _so_ rude to me tonight! You almost don't deserve this call," she slurred.

"Do we need to have this discussion right now?"

"No time better than the present," she said primly.

"Where are you?"

"Outside," she snapped.

"Outside where?"

"Outside somewhere," she giggled.

"Are you purposely being difficult?"

"I'm outside of Bass Industries," she confessed.

"What the hell are you doing there?"

"Well _Henry_ did say you two had work to do. I wanted to talk to you, so I thought you would be here."

"At this hour? Where are Nate and Serena? Did they really leave you on your own?"

"Somewhere between shots ten and twelve, they started to make out," Blair whispered loudly. "I didn't want to be accused of cockblocking, so I snuck out before they noticed. I definitely think they didn't notice that I'm missing."

Chuck couldn't help but laugh.

"See! I'm fun! You should be nicer to me!" She pouted.

"I want you to listen to me, very carefully—"

"I'm drunk, not an idiot, you Basshole!" She interrupted.

He started to laugh even harder. "Just walk to the main door, and Kevin will let you in. I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

"Promise?" She asked childishly.

"I promise."

"I'm going to time you!"

"Yes ma'am!" He mocked.

By the time Chuck got to the lobby of Bass Industries, with two minutes to spare, Blair had fallen asleep on one of the oversized chairs. He nodded to the security guard and sighed as he scooped her up into her arms. As he walked towards the limo, she shifted and wrapped her arms around his neck. She rubbed her cheek against his chest and mumbled, "Just because you got here in time doesn't mean that I'm not still mad at you, Bass."

He was unable to stop the smile crossing his face, and he unconsciously brushed his lips on her forehead and murmured back, "Well, I'm still mad at you, too, Waldorf."

Chuck waved Arthur away, not wanting to relinquish his hold her, wanting to savor the feel for a few minutes longer. As he settled in the back of the limo, he couldn't believe he had forgotten how she always managed to snuggle perfectly into him. Disappointment flooded him when Arthur opened the limo door in front of the Waldorf's penthouse—it seemed entirely too soon. He deftly angled out of the limo and carried her all the way through the lobby, into the elevator and up the stairs, before depositing her gently onto her bed.

Just as he was about to step back, she whimpered, "Don't go. It's been too long."

His heart caught in his throat as the butterflies in his stomach flew into a frenzy. He briefly closed his eyes, commanding himself to just step back and not be tempted to crawl into bed with her and hold her as he had dreamed about for the past five years.

It was as though Blair read his mind, because suddenly her arms tightened around his neck, her eyes fluttered opened as she said one word, "Stay."

Powerless to resist, he kicked off his shoes and joined her on the bed. "Just until you fall asleep, okay?"

She nodded as she curled into him, as she had always done. He felt like he was home for the first time in a very long time, and before he could stop himself, he drifted off to sleep.

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The sunlight streamed through the windows, as someone pushed the curtains open. Blair moaned as she flung a hand over her eyes. "Why is it so bright in here?"

"Oh, Miss Blair, you are awake!" Dorota said excitedly. "I bring you coffee and breakfast!"

Blair pushed herself up on her elbows before she squinted to see if that really was Dorota in her room. The light blinded her, and she was certain that she was still drunk. Wincing with pain from the pounding in her head, she glared at her once trusty maid. "Of course, Benedict Dorota Arnold would be responsible for opening the curtains and adding to my headache!"

"Miss Blair!" Dorota gasped. "Why you say that?"

"Please, for the love of god, close the curtains before I die! And you know what you did, you traitor! How could you do that to me?" Blair accused. "I asked you to let Anastasia be my flower girl, at a _royal wedding_, and you befriend _that woman_?"

"What woman? Miss Blair, maybe you too tired, and you need more rest?" Dorota said as she drew the shades down and pulled the curtains shut.

"Henry!" Blair shrilled. "That's who I'm talking, about, Chuck's girlfriend! Why was she talking as though you two were best friends? Mentioning taking _my_ goddaughter to a Mets game? Do you let Henry take her to feed the ducks, too? You are conspiring with _the enemy_!"

"Miss Henry no enemy. She dating Mr. Chuck? I not know that. Mr. Nate only tell me that Miss Henry and Mr. Chuck work together. Last I check her facebook status say 'single'," Dorota defended. "For first year, I not even know Miss Henry a 'Miss', I thought she Mr. Henry, until she ask me for trade so she can beat Mr. Nate in playoffs—"

"Focus, Dorota! What do you mean she's single? She was with Chuck in Paris, when he came for my engagement party. And don't think you're off the hook for not coming, I'm still very upset," Blair said, miffed. "He holds her hand, _in public_!"

"Miss Blair, you know that I not make friends with Miss Henry if she date Mr. Chuck. But why you care if she date Mr. Chuck, you marry Mr. Grimaldi, no?"

"NO!" Blair wailed. "I still love Chuck, so I ended my engagement. That's why I came back to New York."

"Oh, Miss Blair!" Dorota sat next to her. "I'm so sorry!"

"I saw him with her the day after my engagement party. She didn't look like one of his typical blow up dolls, and he was so affectionate with her! _In public_! I hoped I was wrong, but then she was at dinner last night! He ignored me!" Blair said miserably.

"But Mr. Chuck still love you very much. He call this morning to make sure I come to penthouse and take care of you," Dorota reasoned. When Miss Blair this upset the melodrama always very high.

Blair sniffled. "Really? What time?"

"Around six."

"What time is it now?"

"Almost eleven."

Blair sighed, dramatically as she collapsed back into bed. Finally, with a tiny bit of hope in her voice she asked, "So you think maybe Chuck's just trying to make me jealous with Henry?"

"I find out for you, Miss Blair!" Dorota offered eagerly. "I call and I ask her."

"No!" Blair yelled. "Then she'll know I asked you to ask her. Have you forgotten everything I taught you?"

Dorota rolled her eyes. "No, but it long time since I have to plot, and usually when I plot, it is with Miss Henry."

She quickly clamped her hand over her mouth. Why she say that? Before Miss Blair could say anything, she quickly rushed out, "But I become double agent, 007, and I find out everything I can. The way you taught me."

"Well…" Blair dragged out. "I suppose that's the least you could do. But you're on probation until you've made it up to me."

"You rest now. I start my double agent duties. I come back in hour and bring you lunch," Dorota suggested.

"Ok." Blair conceded. Dorota turned off the lights, and just as she was about to close the door, her charge spoke.

"I'm glad to be home, Dorota, I've missed you," she said as she buried herself underneath her comforter.

"I'm glad you are home, too," and she shut the door with a soft smile that transformed into a grim one as she walked down the hallway. Pulling out her phone, she scrolled through her contacts. There was work to be done.

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"Henrietta Park," she answered the phone.

"You not tell me you and Mr. Chuck dating," Dorota dove in, getting straight to point. Miss Blair may think subtlety is best tactic, but Dorota knows best way to get answers from Miss Henry is direct assault.

"What?" Henry shrieked. "Who told you that?"

"Miss Blair says so this morning. She say you Mr. Chuck's girlfriend. Is this true?"

"Of course—" Henry paused suddenly. "Why? Is she jealous?"

"Very," Dorota said, dangling the bait. "So?"

Henry cleared her throat. "What does Chuck have to do with fantasy sports? To be quite honest, I didn't even know that you worked for Blair's family until last night."

"Miss Henry, you not answer question," she pressed.

"There's no straight answer for what is going on with me and Chuck," Henry admitted. "But you can tell Blair that it's none of her business, and to stay away from him."

"But he call me this morning to tell me Miss Blair very hung over and that she back at the penthouse."

"Really?" Henry sounded almost too eager about the news. "Very interesting."

"Yes," she confirmed. She got answer, even if Miss Henry try to play chess. And while Dorota may not know everything, she know enough. For now, she tell Miss Blair nothing. Few minutes later, when Dorota check Miss Henry's facebook page, and relationship status says, "it's complicated," she has even more answers.

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_**tbc

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A/N: Was that enough a glimpse of C's mystery woman? Because this is still my favorite chapter! You'll find out even _more_ about her in the next chapter.

To the divine Noirreigne, who should kick me in the ass for making her beta like a woman who has nothing better to do, and instead of telling me I'm crazy has nothing but words of encouragement. Can I keep you forever?

For my readers and reviewers who somehow manage to make the time to read my project and sometimes to scribble me a note, you have my sincerest admiration.

Happy New Year! And may 2011 bring us more fantastic C/B fics and a respectable way for us to still blatantly worship them on the show!


	6. regarding henrietta

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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"Really, B? The Met steps?" Serena asked with a twinkling smile.

"S, I'm determined to remind myself of who Blair Waldorf was, in all her glory," Blair teased back.

Serena handed her a yogurt with fruit. Blair handed her back a cappuccino.

"Remember how everything was so melodramatic back then? Everything was life and death, and it was all about how high on the steps you could sit?" Serena laughed.

"I wouldn't know," Blair said snottily, "I always got to sit at the top."

Both girls giggled as they settled themselves on the steps.

"So, what's the real reason you summoned me for this meeting, Queen B?"

Blair just looked at Serena.

"Of course, why do I even ask? What did Chuck do now?"

"He hasn't answered my calls or my texts. Every time I call his office, they tell me he's in a meeting. S, it's been three days," she pouted. "It's not like I _don't_ know that he picked me up from BI when I drunk-dialed him."

"Yes, you've been perfectly evasive about what happened that night." Serena wiggled her eyebrows. "Is there some double entendre you want to make that will have my skin crawling?"

"I actually don't remember," Blair said sheepishly. "Shouldn't I be asking _you_ what happened with Nate, instead?"

"Hormones. It's been known to happen on occasion. He's good in bed," Serena answered, nonplussed. "Stop stalling…details, please."

"I just remember at some point I woke up, and we were spooning. I thought it was a dream so I immediately went back to sleep, so I could savor that feeling."

"So do what you do best, show up and distract him," she suggested.

"That's my plan. Only, I need some information first. What's with Henry and everyone, seriously? Dorota said she thought she was single. But, I saw her in Paris with Chuck, just before you and Nate found me at the Ritz Bar—if you saw what I saw, you would've thought that they were seriously involved. You seem to hate her, Dorota plots with her and Nate, contrary to his words seems really fond of her, so what's the deal?" Blair rushed out.

Serena looked highly uncomfortable and started to fidget. "I don't like her, B, 'nuff said."

"But _Dorota_ seems to _love_ her! Even Anastasia was telling me how Aunt Henny was her favorite after me," Blair asked, confused.

"Oh, so Dorota is a better judge of character than I am?"

Blair raised her brow.

"Point taken," Serena shrugged. "Well, I have my reasons."

"YES, and I'd like to _hear_ them," Blair rolled her eyes, impatiently.

"BecauseshewassleepingwithNate," she mumbled. "BeforeshehookedupwithChuck."

"What?"

"After the whole BI thing with my mom and Chuck got resolved, you were still kinda giving me the cold shoulder. I was thinking that I wanted to give it another shot with Nate," she said miserably. "So I let myself into the suite at the Empire, and there she was, coming out of Nate's room wearing my favorite blue shirt of his. She didn't see me, but she clearly knew her way around the kitchen and started making breakfast. All of a sudden, I hear Nate's voice saying he loves it when she stays over because she cooks, and would she please move in so he could have this every morning. I ran out of there as fast as I could."

With a sympathetic smile, Blair reached out and held Serena's hand, gently prodding her to continue.

"About a month later there was a BI event, Chuck had begrudgingly invited me and Eric, and there she was, on Chuck's arm. And she's been the only woman on his arm ever since. A few months after that he started to introduce her in that smarmy voice of his as his 'favorite business associate', full of innuendo. Henry just rolls her eyes when he does, but she's equally amused. It's been like that for almost four years. And she _does_ work at BI, Chuck got her a job there, and she's apparently, very very good at what she does."

"What does she do?" Blair asked curiously.

"Something with mergers, and it's supposedly a big deal, because she had _no_ experience in it," Serena said. "But the truth of the matter is, none of us really know what the deal with her and Chuck is. I actually haven't seen him shove his tongue down her throat or grope her—or any woman, for that matter, not since the Saints and Sinners ball, and that woman was _you_. He's affectionate with Henry, so most people have assumed they have some understanding."

"Hmmm," Blair said as she digested this new information.

"But whatever it is, she's very important to him. She easily trumps Nate in his priority list. I know Henry's the one responsible for Chuck moving out of the Empire last fall."

"He moved?" Blair asked, feeling a tinge of relief.

"Yup!"

"Have you been to his new place?" She asked curiously.

Serena shook her head with a scowl, "I haven't been invited. I'm sure Henry has something to do with it. He bought the place after the only fight anyone's been aware of between them—something about if he wanted another chance, he couldn't still live in that place where too much had happened. I gather she wasn't happy about your lingering presence."

"My presence?"

"Except for the linens, he hadn't changed a single thing in that suite. And we know how much of a say you had in the décor. Not that she lived there, or anything, but Nate would refer to her as their 3rd roommate. I never understood how he wasn't upset about how she dumped him for Chuck, especially since he asked her to move in—it must have been like you all over again."

"Why didn't you just ask him?"

"Right, because that wouldn't come off as a bit psycho and desperate? Puh-leeze. But you know Nate, he's always friends with his exes, so maybe it wasn't too serious?"

"Or maybe Nate never slept with her?" Blair offered.

"I know what I saw, B," Serena said firmly. "Plus, she has so much animosity towards me, you saw how it was during dinner."

"Not to pick a fight, but it looked like it went both ways."

"I tried to be nice to her! For the first year! But she was just so dismissive and completely uninterested in anything I said. She made it seem like a chore, as if she had been forced to talk to me!"

"I don't know, S, you know how sometimes things aren't what they seem—for the past two days, that's all Dorota keeps saying to me. And if Henry and Chuck are as close as you claim, maybe it's for the same reason that I was mad at you all these years?"

Serena stared at the yogurt cup in her hands. "I wasn't trying to hurt him, you know. I made one mistake, and it's still affecting my relationship with all of you guys."

Blair threw her arm around her and said, "Some scars take longer to heal. But I think I might be even more confused than before. Looks like I will have to do some detective work. I'll call you after I see Chuck?"

Serena nodded absently, still lost in her own thoughts.

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For the past three days, Henry had employed every trick up her sleeve to get Chuck to spill about what had happened between him and Blair that night. She had allowed Dorota to 'catch' her off guard when she had called the other day—she was one of the sneakiest people Henry knew.

She had been relieved that Chuck had let her force him out of the restaurant before he said anything he would regret. And from the looks of it, he had been raring to go. It was understandable, after what had happened in Paris, anything about Blair had set him on edge. The shock of seeing her at the dinner table must have had him reeling.

_Chuck had called after the engagement party, gushing about how beautiful Blair had been. Henry had rolled her eyes while she let him chatter about how he was certain that he was not the only one who still had feelings. She remained quiet, wondering when Chuck was going to announce that he was breaking his promise to himself that he wouldn't try and interfere with Blair's life. The line had gone silent. She looked at her phone making sure the call had not been dropped, when suddenly he confessed the surprise dance that he had gifted Blair with. Henry had sighed, although secretly thrilled that Chuck had made such a romantic gesture. She chided gently, "Only you would out romance the would-be hero of the night in an attempt to steal the heroine."_

_There was another pause._

_In a rush, Chuck had blurted, "I have to talk to her! I'm going to see her tomorrow morning. I'm not the only one that felt something. Hen, I think our magnetic pull is even stronger now. I don't know if I could live with myself if I didn't at least try. I told her the last time I saw her that if two people were meant to be together, eventually they'd find their way back!"_

"_Have I told you today, how unfair it is, that I'm the only person who knows what a hopeless romantic you are? I almost want to vomit," she had joked._

"_Blair," he said softly. "I'm only a hopeless romantic about Blair. She's the only one who's loved me like that."_

"_Then I'll wish you luck, and cross my fingers that you will be the cause of a broken engagement. Do you want me to be there? For moral support?" She offered._

"_Unfortunately, if all goes well, you would just be in_ _the way," he cheekily replied. "But if I change my mind, I'll call you and have the Bass jet come fetch you. London isn't too far away. And she's going to have meet you eventually."_

_Henry grumbled. "Good night, Chuck." She softened her tone, "And good luck."_

"_Night, Hen."_

_He had seemed so full of hope and ready to be happy that she had really thought it was destined to end well, with Chuck going MIA for the next week, and locked in a suite with Blair. She hadn't wanted to issue one warning. In the four years she had known him, she had never heard him that excited or playful. But when he had called her the next morning growling, she knew things had not gone well. _

_She had dropped her bag at the front desk, with orders to have it brought up to Mr. Bass' room. Fortunately he had left word with the concierge that he was expecting company. She made a beeline to the main bar that he had said he would be at. She had arrived about three hours later than she had intended. She had missed her flight at Heathrow by ten minutes, and the next three flights were sold out, so she had just jumped on the Eurostar instead. The idea of actually waiting for him to sending the Bass jet over that short a distant, knowing that it cost such an exorbitant amount, still made her extremely uncomfortable. She convinced herself that Chuck couldn't do that much harm to himself in such a short span of time. Henry had barely been able to sit still during the train ride. _

_When she saw him slumped on the bar stool, absently tracing patterns on the bar, her heart broke, a tiny bit. She took a deep breath, and hoped to tease a smile out of him as she snuck up behind him and placed her hands over his eyes. "Did you miss me?"_

"_Desperately," Chuck had said and she could hear the smile in his voice. _

_She let out a sigh of relief. Henry felt him remove her hands as he swiveled on his bar stool to face her. She only caught a glimpse of the wild look of devastation before he had flung himself into her arms, holding her so tight, she could barely breathe. She hoped he would play their game as she demanded, "How much did you miss me?"_

"_As far as the eye can see and back," he answered truthfully. That had been their stock answer to that question. They had come up with it when they had gotten shitfaced a couple of years ago, and were so drunk that they literally couldn't see more than a few inches in front of them. They had laughed hysterically, and it had stuck._

"_I suppose that will do," she teased. Chuck surprised her by picking her up and swinging her around. She giggled until he set her down and she caught the tears forming in his eyes. Chuck was doing everything not to fall apart, and now that she had gotten there, he was keeping up his façade no longer. Henry reached up and stroked his face, "Why don't we get out of here?"_

_They had continued to banter lightly. She offered him her hand as a conciliatory gesture—it was the one measure of physical affection that she employed to soothe his nerves, it relaxed him. He clutched her close to him as they waited for the elevator. Once they were in the empty car, she pulled his head down, so their foreheads touched, and whispered, "Chuck, it's going to be ok. You can let it all out."_

_As the elevator doors closed, he had fallen into her arms. He pushed her away as his back hit one wall, and he slid to the floor, placing his head in his hands, "I don't think she ever loved me, Hen."_

_Immediately she had sat down next to him on the floor, and wrapped her arms around him, "What happened?"_

_The elevator doors to their floor opened before he could answer. She forced him to stand up, as she walked him down to his suite, and searched his pockets for the key card. Once they were inside, she noticed four beautifully wrapped presents. "Are those what I think they are?"_

"_She didn't open a single one of them. She asked her fiancée to return them to me, so she wouldn't have to face me." Chuck said bitterly and walked up to the bar. He grabbed a glass and threw it against the wall. He threw a second one, and a third. Henry had gotten to him before he could throw the fourth._

_She wrapped her arms around him from behind, and buried her face into his back and whispered, "Chuck, I am _so_ sorry."_

"_Thank you for being my family, Henry. I think I would have died if you hadn't been able to come here." Chuck rubbed his hands over hers._

_Henry had held him for close to an hour, until he was finally too exhausted to stand. When he had sprawled face down onto the couch, she had managed to order room service and to have the maid service come clean up his mess. She had been certain that Chuck hadn't eaten all day, and she could smell the scotch on him from across the room. The next morning he had been sullen and silent. The impenetrable wall hiding his vulnerability of the night before was up again, and they took the jet back to Manhattan._

She had felt Blair's gaze fixated on both her and Chuck during the few minutes they had been at the attempt of dinner the other night. Chuck was convinced that something must've happened with Louis and that she was slinking back to NYC with her tail between her legs, focused on him, because she knew how he felt about her. He refused to be manipulated by her, he had said firmly. But Henry had sensed that he was playing the wounded card, and let him wallow in his self-pity. Nothing about Blair Waldorf indicated she was suffering from a broken heart over the ended engagement—but, Chuck knew her better, so she bit her tongue.

_**Bzzzz. **_

Why was Chuck's personal assistant calling her?

"What do you want, Sam?"

"Testy-testy! And here I was calling you to gossip!"

"Spit it out, time is money."

"_Blair Waldorf _is at reception signing in. Thought you'd like to know!"

"REALLY?"

"YES!"

"I owe you big for this one!"

"Oh, I know, don't think you won't be taking me to lunch tomorrow, somewhere nice and expensive! I'll pick," he chuckled.

"Is he off his conference call?"

"It's wrapping up right now."

"See you in 30 seconds," Henry smiled as she hung up the phone. It was days like today when she was glad that Chuck had insisted that her office be on the same floor as his, even though her department was not. She opened her desk drawer, and pulled out a box, snatching it before she sauntered down the hall to his office. She smirked at Sam as he waved her in, and she left the door slightly ajar.

"Chuck."

"Hen?" He said without looking up from his computer. "What is it?"

"I got you a present, because you've been such a little bitch the past couple of days," she said.

That got his attention. He narrowed his eyes as he looked up at her, tapping the necktie box against her palm. "Gee, thanks."

"See," she said as she opened the box to reveal the textured silvery lavender tie. "And look! It matches your suit!"

"Very nice," he acquiesced as he reached out to admire her selection.

"Now, be a good boy, and let me put it on you."

"Seriously?"

She nodded.

He rolled his eyes but conceded, as he was already removing the tie he was wearing. She had just put the tie around his neck and perched herself on the edge of the desk when Sam's voice floated through the open door, "May I help you?"

"Blair Waldorf to see Chuck Bass," she heard. Chuck looked down at her suspiciously, as Henry merely shrugged, her eyes wide and innocent. She continued with her task at hand—tying a perfect Windsor knot.

"There, now don't you look handsome?" she simpered as she ran her hand on Chuck's chest.

The light gasp had both her and Chuck looking at their visitor.

"Blair," he said tightly.

"Chuck," Blair said uncomfortably. "Henry."

"Hi Blair!" Henry enthused. "Don't you love this new tie I got for Char? I saw it the other day, and I had to pick it up! I mean, it's not quite purple-purple, but it suits him perfectly!"

"It's lovely," Blair said politely, and Henry could see her disappointment at having found them in such an intimate position.

"Can I help you, Blair?" Chuck asked in an amused voice, as he placed his hands on Henry's waist, pinching her lightly with his right hand.

"Would it be better for me to leave?" Henry offered helpfully, trying not to wince as Chuck pinched her quite a bit harder.

"There's nothing she can't say to me, in front of you, _darling_," Chuck said sweetly, as he started to nuzzle her ear. Henry had to stop herself from pulling away and wiping her ear off from potential Bass-tamination.

"I was just going to ask if you wanted to have lunch, for old time's sake. And since you've been too busy to answer my calls, I thought I'd come find you at work," Blair said softly.

"Char, why don't you have lunch with her! We can finish this later," Henry said as she shot Blair a wink.

"But I want to finish this _now_," Chuck murmured, using what Henry assumed was his 'seductive voice'.

"Clearly, I'm interrupting. Another time?" Blair asked.

"Another time," Chuck nodded, ignoring Blair and gazing at Henry. "And next time, it would be advisable if you scheduled it with Sam first. Can you close your door on the way out?"

"Bye Blair!" Henry sang.

With a strained smile, Blair turned around and walked out the door, shutting it softly behind her.

Henry counted to thirty, hoping Blair would be far down the hallway when she punched Chuck in the shoulder. "OUCH! YOU ASSHOLE! That fucking hurt!"

"'Char'? Really Hen? Since when did you start calling me that? I don't recall signing off on that," Chuck mused completely unapologetic.

"Since Blair Waldorf walked back into your life and you're acting like it doesn't matter!" Henry snapped.

Chuck snorted, "That's rich. I'm supposed to let her walk all over me and toy with me? I don't think so. Besides, there's been no confirmation that she's back here for _me_."

"According to Dorota, she thinks I'm your girlfriend and she's _very_ jealous," Henry baited. "And gauging from her reaction, on what she thought she walked in on, I'd say that's more than a fair assumption."

"You're not usually so cruel, Hen," Chuck observed. "Am I finally rubbing off on you?"

"God, I hope not," she shuddered, as she started to wipe her ear where he had nuzzled her. "I just wanted to judge for myself, what she thinks is going on. I'm going to find out what her intentions are. I think you're wrong, I think she cares about you, the way you do her."

"Tread carefully, Hen," Chuck's voice lashed out like a whip. "You only know what I've told you, but you don't know her at all. She's quite the accomplished actress."

"She looked pretty devastated to me, Chuck."

"She is not the only one who has cornered that market. But you certainly make her uncomfortable, so be prepared to play the doting _lover_, Hen. And make it look good!" Chuck warned.

"Nuh-uh! This was a one-time occurrence. As far as I'm concerned, I already dumped you, because you're in love with someone else," she said smartly.

"Why are you drawing the line now? How is this any different that our agreement for the past few years?" he demanded.

"Because _she's_ back. What do you think the agreement was about? So you could step away unscathed and be available when she came back!" Henry argued.

"Please, Hen, I need you to do this," Chuck said quietly. "It hurts too much."

"Chuck, don't turn it into a big game. It's already bad enough what I just did," she evaded.

"Where's my over-protective big sister? You know firsthand how I can't stop myself with anything about her. You've watched how I've had to train myself to not react, force myself to stay away. She drunk dialed me that night, and I couldn't resist, I just had to go pick her up and drive her home. I ended up crawling into bed with her and just sleeping for a few hours. It was torture making myself leave. And if she _doesn't_ feel the same way about me this time, I don't think I'll make it," he admitted.

"I _don't_ want to be a party to your deception of her—it goes against everything you've done to prove you're worthy of her."

"I'm not trying to deceive her—I'm just not ready to be vulnerable to her. At least, not unless she means it—and not because I'm second best."

"And what does she have to do to make you believe she means it?" Henry pressed.

"I'll just know," he said childishly.

"If I find out she's serious, this charade ends, yes?" He nodded.

Henry pursed her lips, this was going to blow up in his face, she was certain of it.

"Just don't tell her we _aren't_ dating, you don't have to lie to her, just omit the details of what our actual relationship is," he amended hopefully.

"You'll limit your cuddly gestures—you know it's downright incestuous!"

Chuck smiled gratefully, "Whatever you say, _Sis_."

.

.

.

"Char! She calls him 'Char', Serena! Who does that? Who calls someone the preference meat is cooked at one of those peasant picnics or BBQs?" Blair practically shrieked into the phone as she walked out of Bass Industries.

"You're getting pretty worked up for someone who told me earlier that not everything is what it seems," Serena observed, fully amused.

"I walked in on them practically about to have _sex_ in his office. AND, she was _nice_ to me, I mean super nice!" Blair complained. "How am I supposed to win him back, if she's being nicer to me than he is?"

"Oh, so that's the master plan? You're going to steal Chuck from her?" Serena teased.

"You can't call it stealing if he never belonged to her in the first place!" Blair said arrogantly.

"Meet me at Bendel's in fifteen?"

"Make it ten, S!"

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_**tbc**_

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**A/N: It would be remiss of me if I did not point out that Henry will be around for the duration of the story. It came to my attention, that I may be misleading you with the addition of her to the story. The reason I did not notate the presence of an OC was there is not one drop of romantic involvement between her and the canon characters—even if Chuck wants to give you that impression. I would understand if some of you want to jump ship now, but I am a CB-shipper, so please remember that = happy ending with Chuck and Blair, of course. You'll get a lot of Chuck in the next chapter, it'll explain more about his reaction to B. In fact, Chapter 7 is ALL Chuck and Blair…**

**I think JissyLuv13 said it best…highs and lows, that's almost every chapter from here on out.**

To the beta of my dreams, Noirreigne who is just perfect the way she is, thank you for everything.

To Lisa Levine, because you are the best demonstration of constructive criticism and I am indebted to you for making me realize that sometimes I have to remember that the story that I'm writing doesn't just reside in _my_ head, but other people are seeing it, too!

To the readers and reviewers—I hope you are still with me…? Trust me, there is still a ton of angst and really poignant conversations that need be having. And I thank you for spending your time to read my work!

And to all the anon reviewers who I couldn't reply to individually, thank you so much for sharing your thoughts, they all make me smile!


	7. blairality check

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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When Chuck had purchased the penthouse, location had been of the most importance—it was about a ten minute drive to Bass Industries, and if he was feeling particularly restless, it was under a half hour walk. The building had been more than ideal—it had a beautiful dark brick exterior with numerous period detailing—including high, arched ceilings, intricate wood paneling, pocket doors and moldings galore. Spanning the entire length of one wall was floor-to-ceiling windows that had panoramic views from Central Park to the city lights of Manhattan. He had fallen in love with it and had impulsively purchased the top three floors, with the intention of converting it into a three-story palace, eventually. The place would one day become a _home._

He put in an all cash offer and had the papers signed within a week of seeing it. When he brought Henry here she had just looked at him wryly and said, _nothing in small measures?_ But she had understood his logic behind it, after all he hadn't even thought to look for a place until she had confronted him. This was a place that he could bring Blair one day, when they finally found their way back to each other. And after they got married but before they had children, Blair could customize it to her heart's content, connecting the lower two floors to their liking. It's what had caused him to send Blair the Harry Winston diamond choker—the last present he sent her. He had known how much she had wanted it their senior year in high school, but they had spent too much time playing the ILY game. He had thought when she opened it, she would see that he was done playing games.

Chuck had had the architects build two large walk-in closets on each side of the master bathroom, hers being quite larger. He used to look at the closet door each morning he woke up, it gave him hope about what could be, renewed his faith that he was right to stay away. But after he had received the engagement party invitation, he had purchased an elaborate wardrobe to place in front of it—it was too painful for him to be reminded of what he had so carelessly squandered.

With nothing but a towel slung low on his hips, Chuck walked out of his large en suite bathroom and into the entirely too large for a male, walk-in closet. He rifled through the bowtie section, searching for the perfect one to wear to the event later tonight. He was about to belatedly kick himself for not checking with Henry what color dress she planned on wearing—it would aggravate Blair if he did _their_ unintentional matching thing byintentionally matching with Hen—when he realized she was fortunately on her way over.

He huffed, not understanding why she wanted to have brunch both today _and_ tomorrow. Sunday was their standing brunch date that oftentimes included Nate, but last night Henry had insisted that they do it Saturday, as well. He'd make her pay for it by having her own up to what color dress she'd be wearing that night. And hopefully he would be able to sidestep her non-stop campaign pestering him to spend some time with Blair. She had been at it for over a week, ever since Blair had walked in on her carefully engineered scene.

Henry was getting quite cranky, and actually ordered him to stop blowing Blair off. He scoffed out loud before scowling darkly. She hadn't even spent any time alone with Blair, and already Henry was pushing him to offer his heart on a silver platter to her. She might as well ask Blair if she'd like to break his heart now or later. It was unfair! Henry was supposed to be on _his_ side, she was _his_ friend, not Blair's. He didn't know how to put into words that Blair had a way of making him feel that he was almost, but not quite good enough for her. During his entire relationship with Blair, Chuck had always felt that the scales had been unbalanced—that he loved her to distraction, while she floated away and came back to him when it suited her purposes. It wasn't that he had behaved perfectly, because he hadn't come even _close_ to being ideal, but he had never been unwilling to give _her_ a second or third chance. Blair always managed to make him feel that the slightest misstep would be grounds for a dismissal, banishment from her presence.

Her return had left him so conflicted. Chuck couldn't even begin to identify the endless number of emotions that were coursing through his veins. Presently, his life was a tedious balancing act and he was struggling not to topple over. He wouldn't deny that the sight of her, still made his heart skip a beat, or that holding her in his arms was indescribably sublime. But all of his reactions just reminded him of the desperation she always inspired from him. It just didn't seem right that it took so little to make him come undone.

He thought he heard the doorbell ring, but then shook his head. Henry had refused the keycard to the private elevator entrance when he had offered it to her and she had argued that it would be wrong for her to have a key before Blair did. _Blair's house_, was what she called it. Henry had compromised by accepting a key to the building's common elevator, when he had embarrassedly explained that he thought siblings had keys to each other's homes. More often than not, she opted not to use the key and knocked. Although on rare occasion, she loved nothing better than letting herself in, if only to creep up behind him and scare the shit out of him.

He smiled in spite of himself; he sometimes forgot she was six years older than him. It was her spirit that he was connected to—how she could have lived the painful life she had, yet somehow be an eternal optimist. Although he thought her to be a bit naïve in her belief that with love, you had to have 'blind faith', she had really aided him when he struggled—reminding him that Blair would always be worth it—she had to be. Sometimes Chuck really felt like she was a kindred spirit, it wasn't every day he met a fellow orphan whose uncle had exploited them and also had a true love that they had not gotten over, walk away from them. It was unsurprising that they had bonded seamlessly.

Simultaneously there was a loud knock on the door as the bell rung again. With a sigh, he walked out of his bedroom and into the hallway. If Henry was going to make him answer the door than he might as well squick her out by opening it, half-dressed. She was such a nine year-old sometimes, and far be it for him not to lower his standards and act like an eight year-old in return. With a smile, he swung the door open while he said, "I'm dressed, just the way you like me, Hen."

A wide-eyed Blair Waldorf was _not_ what he was expecting.

He felt her eyes travel from his face and down his body and he couldn't help but feel a bit gratified. His upper body had filled out over the past couple of years, and there was a sense of smug satisfaction, as he saw the lust flare in her eyes as she unconsciously bit her lower lip. With a raised brow, he pretended to be unperturbed, "See something you like, Waldorf?"

She blushed before mumbling, "Nothing I haven't seen before, Bass."

"True."

Silence.

"Are you planning on leaning against the doorway all day?" Blair mocked with false bravado. "If you let me in, I promise not to touch anything while you get dressed."

"You can't just invite yourself over, unannounced, Blair. We're not in high school anymore," he returned stiffly.

Surprise crossed Blair's face, "But…we have plans, don't we?"

"Highly doubtful, since I don't recall agreeing to them."

She bit her lip again, as her forehead creased with a wrinkle and it took all his self-control not to just lean over and insure it was _him_ biting her lip. He needed her to leave, and quickly. There was no one around to stop him from reacting to her, and he was practically naked already.

"But Henry called last night and invited me to have brunch with the two of you. She's the one who sent me your address," Blair explained, still confused. She scrolled through her phone to find the appropriate message, before handing the phone to him for confirmation. Her hand brushed his, and they both stepped back, the electrical currents humming through them both.

"Bitch," he muttered, barely audibly, not noticing Blair's eyes bug at his word choice. With an uncomfortable smile, he stepped back to make room for Blair to pass by him and into his home, _their future home_, he thought bitterly.

Blair walked into his lair. It was too surreal, actually having her there, that he couldn't stop his heart from speeding up, as he watched her look around. Not only did she seem genuinely curious, he could see the flicker of emotions—surprise and delight—as she walked from one room to the other. He noted her surprise at the fairly Spartan manner in which it was furnished. Blair finally stopped at the large living room with the cityscape as a backdrop. She looked ethereal standing so close to the windows, with the natural light flooding in and he couldn't quite catch his breath.

"This place is stunning." Blair smiled at him.

_Not nearly stunning as you_, his traitorous heart thought. He shrugged.

"It could use a woman's touch," she teased.

Chuck's heart froze, _this could not be happening_. It was too similar to the dreams he had since he moved in—dreams in which she had come back to him. Only in those dreams she came to him because she could not stay away—not because he was her last option or because she was coming out of a broken engagement. And he had always imagined following that playful response would undoubtedly be his marriage proposal. He was speechless.

"That gorgeous orchid is the only thing feminine about the place!" Blair exclaimed, pointing to the large green cymbidiums that had a handful of purple speckles. Henry had been unable to contain her mirth when she presented it to him, assuring him that it was a staple California-style Korean gift for housewarmings. She had informed him that had she gotten the typical purple phalaenopsis ones, she would have been unable to stop laughing _ever_. For the first month she came by every few days to properly water it, until she gave up and left instructions for his maid service. Every few weeks she would buy him a new one to replace the withering one.

"I think you should lea—" Chuck was interrupted by his phone beeping. Blair's phone soon followed.

_Sorry, I have paperwork to file with HR about tonight's announcement. You should use brunch as an opportunity to find out why she's here. How are you going to know if you keep hiding from her? Be nice! I'll come by before we have to be at the Palace, ok?_ His text read.

The look of displeasure on Chuck's face prompted Blair to glance at her phone. _I'm so sorry, but I got called into the office for some paperwork. Don't let his grumpiness get the best of you! See you tonight at the Palace? -H._

After she read her text, she looked back at Chuck. She really wished Chuck would put some clothes on. Despite the anger radiating from him, she was practically ready to pounce on him. He was so hot and cold with her, she just didn't know what to think. He looked so furious, that before she could ask him if he'd like her to leave, they were interrupted with a knock at the door. With a look of exasperation he told her to wait there while he saw to the latest intruder. Her eyes hungrily drank in the expanse of his back. There was just too much exposed skin, and it was a weakness of hers, she wanted to bite at it, scratch her nails down it, mark it, as _hers hers hers_!

A moment later she heard a cart being wheeled in to the center of the living area by a catering attendant. The teenaged-looking boy lifted up the cover to present a beautiful array of food—croissants and éclairs, fruit, yogurt, a bottle of Dom and a pitcher of orange juice. The boy held out a card to her and she reached for it. A moment later, Chuck came out of a room with his money clip. He had donned on a pair of slacks and had yet to button his un-tucked, crisp white shirt. Blair didn't know if this was an improvement on the towel, and quickly looked down at the card—it would be unseemly for her to drool. As Chuck handed the boy a twenty, he noticed her reading the card and gestured for her to read it out loud.

"_Chuck and Blair—_

_I had already arranged for the brunch items to be delivered, and hope that you will still enjoy the spread. I would be most disappointed to hear that you didn't share this meal or the morning together. I know you two have a lot of catching up to do!_

—_H"_

"That's nice of her," Blair said a bit uncertainly. Henry was conveniently both absent and encouraging them to continue on without her? Why did she get the feeling that Henry had never intended to show up for brunch? Was there an ulterior motive going on that Blair was unaware of?

"No, it's devious," he said sardonically, echoing her thoughts. "She's a little too helpful, sometimes. Even though you're my ex-girlfriend, she thinks our friendship from junior high school should trump any reservations I have about speaking to you. Hen's not always the most subtle person in the world."

"So, I'm not imagining things? You _are_ avoiding me?" Blair asked. The pain in her voice was unmistakable.

Chuck remained quiet as he merely leaned against the entryway staring at the floor.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Don't pretend you don't know," he practically growled at her.

"Chuck, you have to tell me. What did I do?" Blair begged.

The flash of emotions flickered too quickly on his face for her to decipher. She watched uncomfortably as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I've been completely inhospitable. Please, have a seat, Blair." Chuck gestured politely to the couch.

She didn't know how to take his sudden change in mood, as she gingerly sat down, watching him carefully place all her favorite breakfast items onto a plate—a croissant, a generous dollop of yogurt and fresh berries. He handed the plate to her with a cloth napkin, and she accepted it graciously. He moved to pop open the bottle of Dom, topping the final third of the champagne flutes with orange juice, before presenting her with a glass.

"Cheers," Chuck toasted softly. "To renewing old friendships."

Blair searched his eyes and could only see sincerity, so she clinked her glass against his and took a sip. It was obvious that he was going to ignore his outburst from just moments ago, and she was going to let him. He had already turned to pile two éclairs on his plate, before sitting down at the other end of the couch.

He cleared his throat and asked, "So…uhm, tell me about Yale? Was it everything you had hoped for?"

It was an olive branch, and she was going to grasp it. "Actually, it wasn't. But then again, it was my third school in less than two years. The campus was beautiful, but it reminded me of Nate, actually."

She giggled. The confusion in Chuck's eyes was clear. He asked, "Nate?"

"Well, more like senior year, Nate. When he and I had our failed attempt to rekindle our dead romance?" She continued lightly. "It was perfect on paper and it seemed right and familiar. But like with Nate, I had realized that I had outgrown that childish fantasy. It wasn't _enough_ anymore, just to be there. No one was more surprised than me."

"Well, were the quality of your minions at least better?" he joked.

Blair shook her head, flushing a bit. "Once I got there, I had that sense of déjà vu. You remember my seriously misguided belief that I should rule NYU? Become queen of the dorms?"

"Oh, I remember," Chuck teased.

"I can't believe you let me think that was even remotely a good idea!" She whined. "I mean, even if I had become queen, you saw what would have amounted as _my people_. You were too busy playing the perfect boyfriend that you wouldn't let me see reason. It's humiliating to even remember it."

Chuck eyes danced in amusement as he kept his mouth sealed shut.

With a sigh, Blair continued, "Needless to say, there were, of course, minions available to me. But I declined ruling them. I think I just found myself not caring anymore. I really devoted myself to my studies."

"Do you regret going there?"

She frowned slightly at the hint of worry she heard underlying his voice. She shrugged, "No. I'm glad that I graduated from Yale, it felt like something that needed to be checked off of the Blair Waldorf list. I'm sorry if I make it sound dreadful—it wasn't. But it wasn't as amazing as I imagined it would be either. It made me realize that I had to stop planning out every aspect of my life."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Chuck answered, sounding relieved.

"Me, too."

Silence stretched awkwardly between them. Blair really wanted to ask him why he was so concerned about Yale, but she thought better of it. Besides, she didn't want to talk about herself, she wanted to know everything that had happened to him since she walked away.

"So how's Eleanor?" "Tell me about Bass Industries!" They spoke simultaneously.

They smiled—it was their first genuine exchange since her engagement party. "Eleanor is being Eleanor."

"BI is challenging," he offered. "How are your three fathers?"

"Daddy and Roman are fine. Happy as can be in Lyon."

Chuck grinned. "And Cyrus?"

"Cyrus says hello."

"Does he?"

"He saw you at the engagement party," Blair said quietly. "Cyrus always was your biggest fan."

"Do you wish you stayed in Paris? Near your family?" Chuck asked morosely.

"Everything I want or need is here," she said softly.

His head snapped up as he looked at her, her hands fidgeting with the croissant that lay untouched on her plate. Was she giving him a subtle hint that she was here for him?

"Why that song, Chuck?" she asked suddenly. Her eyes luminous as she stared back at him.

"It seemed the song that best fit what the moment represented," he said honestly. He read the desperate curiosity in her eyes. "I had to be certain that you were really closing the door…is it closed?"

Blair shook her head.

Taking the plate out of her lap, he set it onto the coffee table and slid closer to her. His right hand reached out to cup her face as his thumb lightly stroked her cheekbone. She turned her face into his hand, as she pressed a kiss into his palm. That was the only invitation, he needed. He tilted her face up towards him and leaned in and touched his lips to hers in reverence. The gesture was chaste, but it was the most alive he had felt since she had walked away from him. It was Blair who pressed her lips harder against his as she slid her hands through his hair, and moved so she was sitting in his lap. He poured every ounce of love he had for her into the kiss, as his tongue danced with hers and she was finally in his arms again.

He purred in satisfaction as she ran her hands over his chest and started scraping her fingers down his back—it was one of his most favorite sensations in the world. He placed butterfly kisses along her jawline, before he trailed his mouth down her neck, nipping and biting softly. She tasted even better than he remembered, and he needed to pay homage to every last inch of her. Hoarsely he whispered, "You are so beautiful."

Her smile was radiant and a devious twinkle flashed in her eyes, as she pushed his shirt off of him and dragged his mouth back to hers. This time it was her tongue plundering his as he reveled in simply having her in his arms. His hands lazily roamed every inch of her body. He was going to savor this homecoming—he had missed her too much to rush through this sloppily.

"I've missed this," he murmured into her ears as his tongue dipped into her ear.

She moaned softly, as she pressed her body against his as closely as possible. She felt his unhurried pace, but was desperate to feel him inside her. One hand stroked his jutting hipbone—it had always been one of her favorite parts, as the other speared through his hair. There were shivers running up and down her spine, she hadn't felt this aroused in years, she was panting and ready to explode from this mild kissing. She turned her head to offer him her neck, again, when she saw the brunch cart in the middle of the room. _Henry_.

"Chuck, wait—" she said breathlessly.

He ignored her as he was focused on igniting every nerve in her body, his mouth sucking at her neck in a manner that never failed to bring moisture between her legs.

"What about Henry?" She managed to squeak out.

Instantly he stilled. In a voice full of remorse, he said, "Blair, I need to explain about Henry."

"Explain? What's there to explain?" Blair asked. Suddenly, she didn't want to hear his explanation. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. There was no way he should be able to be this loving towards her when he was involved with someone else. She pushed him hard and jumped off of him. "What was I thinking?"

"Blair!" Chuck called out. He reached out to still her a moment too late.

She snatched up her purse, as she glared at him. "You have a girlfriend, Chuck!"

"Henry is _not_ my girlfriend! You have to let me explain," he begged.

"Oh, that's right, she's just your _favorite business associate_, isn't she?" She growled back. "So what, you just _fuck_ her and work with her and let her ingratiate herself in your life? Sounds like a girlfriend to me!"

"I don't love her like that—"

"You love her?" Blair whispered quietly.

Chuck looked stunned and speechless, and she took this as confirmation that whatever was between him and Henry was deeper than she thought. "Coming here was a mistake."

She ran as quickly as possible through his penthouse and out the door. She was pressing for the elevator when she heard him yell her name again. _Hurry, hurry_, she thought as the elevator doors slid open. Just as the doors were sliding closed, she saw him lunge towards the elevator with her name on his lips.

Blair sighed in relief as she willed herself not to cry.

"Dammit!" Chuck yelled, slamming his hand on the elevator door. And before he could even finish his thought, he was running back into the apartment to the private elevator, praying that he would catch her before she got away.

His heart was beating thunderously, clenching tightly at the thought that she would slip through his fingers again. He ran out of the elevator and around the corner, barefoot and shirtless, just as she was getting into a cab. "Blair!"

He saw the anger and hurt in her eyes flash before she slammed the cab door. Chuck ran faster, but the cab had already pulled away from the curb. "FUCK!"

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To avoid seeming like a stalker, Chuck limited himself to twenty-six phone calls and did not allow himself to show up unannounced at her home. He was seething now, as he was readying himself to make the announcement planned for the event. Not only had Blair refused to answer a single one of his phone calls, she had deftly refused to speak to him since arriving. She had been flanked with Serena and Eric by her side, and when he politely requested a private audience with her, she had hissed at him to leave her alone.

He had only wanted to explain and apologize for deceiving her. He had been scared, and now he knew that she was scared, too. If she would just listen to him for a moment, this would all work itself out. But then he had chanced on overhearing Blair bemoan, "I went from a _Prince_ to _him_, what was I thinking, Serena? Chuck is always going to be a mistake that I can't help banging myself repeatedly over the head with."

Chuck had stepped back stunned. To hear his worst fears articulated in her words, unprovoked, was as painful as the moment he had received the engagement party invitation. He had stumbled off to a corner to piece himself together in some attempt at being presentable. He still had a company party to host.

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"Ladies and gentleman, if I could please have your attention," Chuck paused easily with a smile, overlooking the modest, yet not small crowd of people who had been hand-selected to attend this evening's party. "While tonight is in honor of landing the Gerson account, it's also time for a long overdue announcement."

Chuck glanced around the room that comprised mostly of upper management and board members of Bass Industries, other colleagues, as well as Nate, Serena, Eric and Blair. He tried not to betray his irritation that Blair had the audacity to still be there. Well, if she felt that he was such a mistake, he would make certain that she knew he felt the same way.

"If Miss Henrietta Park would kindly join me," he flashed a grin towards her as the rest of the room turned their attention to her. Henry smiled widely as she walked up to him and joined him on the platform. "As most of you know, Miss Park is undoubtedly the most important woman—no, person, in my life. And despite the numerous hours she is already forced to spend in my tedious company, she has agreed to make her life even more complicated. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for me, she now has committed even more of her hours in my presence. May I introduce to you, the future …"

He paused, knowing exactly the effect he was making in having the guests assume this announcement was more personal in nature. The entire room was waiting on pins and needles, and although most people didn't know it, he felt the anger vibrating off of Henry. He had certainly not missed the daggers in her eyes that only he could see. He fought the tinge of guilt he felt when his eyes met Blair's, but he reminded himself of the words he had just heard her say. Her face was frozen as if she was watching a train wreck, yet could not look away. If he were not mistaken there were tears welling in her eyes as she was clutching her glass of champagne so tightly, he thought it would shatter in her hand.

"…Vice President of Mergers and Acquisitions. Please raise your glass," he finished. Taking Henry's hand, he lifted it and pressed a kiss on it, before she practically yanked it back. He stepped aside to allow Henry to take a bow and a warm round of applause flooded the room. His eyes could not leave Blair's, as he felt the relief rolling off of her in waves. Blair flashed him a strained smile as she gulped down the remnants of the champagne in her glass and quickly escaped towards the terrace. It took every morsel of his control to not run after her and beg her to let him explain himself. He hadn't expected that level of devastation after her words he had overheard and her response earlier that day. Chuck had just wanted Blair to know that Henry wasn't going anywhere, that she had usurped her prior standing—even if it weren't true. Instead, he trained his attention back to Henry's thank you speech, trying to ignore that prickle of conscience telling him that maybe he was wrong.

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She had almost started hyperventilating inside. He had looked directly at her before _not_ breaking her heart. Blair had been terrified that the words to follow were going to be _Mrs. Bass_, and she did not doubt that a large part of her would have died. It would have been fate, laughing at her for pushing him over the edge to propose to Henry, after what had happened between them today. It was all too much for her, she hadn't felt that _alive_ in almost five years, and she hadn't even given him the opportunity to explain what it was that he wanted to say. Instead she did what she always did with him—push him away when she wasn't comfortable with her own behavior. But she was a masochist, through and through, because even after what happened, she couldn't stop herself from attending this gala.

Henry had made the situation even stranger by seeking her out. With barely concealed irritation, but not a hint of maliciousness, she had said, "If you are half the woman Chuck claims you are, you should give him a chance to explain."

She had walked away after that, and Blair just stood there speechless watching as Henry went to Chuck's side and they made their rounds with colleagues together. At first Blair wondered if Henry was a mercenary or an idiot, but as she observed the pair that evening, there was not a hint of discomfort. If anything, they seemed even closer, but not out of guilt or obligation.

That was when Blair realized what a _fool_ she had been! How had it _never_ occurred to her that _he_ may have been the one who had moved on all this time? While she had been busy playing Stepford Wife-in-training, he actually might have gotten over her, over _them_, and found someone else.

Blair replayed their conversation from almost five years ago—she had never once asked him to wait. She had basically told him that whatever it was between them was now over. She hadn't given him even a glimmer of hope. Not even when she had mailed him his yearly birthday gift—she had only ever signed the note, _Just because we can't be together, doesn't mean we aren't friends…-B_. Chuck had never responded, to her chagrin, but she couldn't blame him. If _he_ had sent her packages with a similar note, she didn't know if she'd have been able to stop herself. Any contact from him during all these years would have been all it took for her to rush back to him.

He had truly taken her words to heart from that evening, leaving her to figure out what she wanted. That night _he_ had been the one to plea, _if two people are meant to be together, eventually they'll find their way back_. And tonight, she thought he had been about two seconds away from breaking her completely. Every bone in her body had wanted to lunge at Henry and scratch her eyes out so badly, when Chuck had teased the audience with _May I introduce to you, the future.._, that it had startled her. But the truth of the matter was, he loved someone who was actually worthy of it, and that might be something she had absolutely _no_ say in. She took in a big breath of air and thought about her engagement party. Chuck had come and not done one single thing wrong, he had not meddled, instead he had been sweetly nostalgic.

Perhaps it was time for her to take a page out of his book—she'd have to befriend the enemy. If Henry really did make him happy, who was she to stand in the way?

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_**tbc**_

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A/N: I know it's been awhile since I've given you a clear Chuck or Blair POV, so I thought now would work, plus, I'm a sucker for a good epiphany! Chuck and Blair are their own worst enemies, and yet it doesn't diminish my love for them, not one drop.

For one of my favorite people in the world, Noirreigne, who happens to also be my beta.

For Lisa Levine, who without your insight and feedback and commentary, knows just how differently this chapter would have gone. I hope, while it may not be exactly what you wanted to read, be a vast improvement to the previous draft.

To the readers and reviewers, I hope you don't hate me…I swear, there is a purpose to this madness! AND, I hope you are still enjoying this story, because I appreciate those of you who are reading!


	8. henrietta the spy

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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**A/N 2.0: JUST A CLARIFICATION…because it has come up more than once, Blair does NOT think she's **_**not**_** worthy of Chuck, she's Blair-FUCKING-Waldorf, of course she's worthy. She's just on a mission to confirm that Henry would be worthy of Chuck, that's all. Hope that clears the air!**

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As Blair waited for Henry to meet her in Central Park, she sat on the bench sipping her cappuccino, while Anastasia spun around in circles, flinging her breadcrumbs in wild abandon. Dorota and Vanya were due to pick her up soon. Henry had given her absolutely no resistance when Blair had texted her this morning, asking if she would join her for dinner. Last night had made her determined to figure out as much as she could, as quickly as possible.

"Aunt Blair! Aunt Blair! Look at that duck!" Anastasia cried.

Blair smiled as she set her paper cup on the bench and crouched down to listen intently as her goddaughter told her made up stories of each duck, what she had named them and their relation to each other. She instinctively scooped the little princess in her arms and hugged her. Anastasia squealed as she hugged her godmother back. How could she have missed almost two years of this? She was here now, Blair reminded herself.

Suddenly, Anastasia pulled back and ran off excitedly.

"Anastasia! Where are you going?" Blair called out, turning to keep her in sight. It took her a few seconds, but she figured out her target—Henry was walking towards them and Anastasia barreled into Henry who picked up the little girl and swung her in circles in the air.

She tried not to make a face, but Henry was wearing jeans and a t-shirt_, with tennis shoes_—what self-respecting woman wore those out in public, unless she was running? Since when did Chuck do 'casual'? At least those were designer jeans and the jacket she had on over the t-shirt was really interesting, she conceded, but _still_. Blair was still making a face and shaking her head, as Henry walked up to her with an easy smile, carrying Anastasia on her hip, and looking too much like a hip, suburban soccer mom.

"Aunt Blair, Aunt Henny's here! Do you know my Aunt Henny?" Anastasia's cheeks were flushed, and she looked so happy, that Blair wished _she_ were five years old again.

"I sure do, sweetheart. We're going to go have dinner after your mommy and your daddy come to get you," Blair explained.

"Can I come, too? Aunt Henny promised to take me to McDonald's, because we couldn't go to the Mets game last week!" she informed her.

Blair tried her best not to look horrified as Henry was openly smirking at her—daring her to say something. She was saved by the arrival of Vanya and Dorota, and sighed in relief. Anastasia was easily distracted as she ran to her parents. Blair couldn't help but notice the brief flash of longing in Henry's eyes as she looked almost enviously at Dorota's family. It had disappeared by the time her goddaughter demanded that her father give her a piggyback ride.

That triggered the memory of the private moment Blair had witnessed last night—between Henry and Chuck. Within two hours after the announcement of Henry's promotion, the party had thinned out. On the pretext of leaving her purse upstairs, Blair had slipped away from the protective cocoon of Serena, Eric and Nate, pleading forgetfulness and that she'd take a cab. She didn't know why she was doing it, but she felt like she had to speak to Chuck. Perhaps it was to give him a chance to explain, or apologize for ignoring his twenty some-odd calls. Maybe work on rebuilding the friendship they had once had.

He was standing about twenty feet away from her, with his back turned to her. She was about to call out his name when Henry sidled up to him and bumped her shoulder against his. Although Blair didn't want to spy on them, per se, perhaps this would give her more insight to their increasingly odd relationship.

"_What, Hen?" Chuck growled._

_Henry said nothing, but merely stuck a foot out, waving it around._

"_No." He shook his head._

_She snorted and instead, sat down on a table nearby and stuck out both of her feet, pointing at them while wiggling them up and down. "You owe me."_

_He glared at her before coming over and plucking her shoes off her feet, crushing them in one hand as Henry laughed in triumph. She proceeded to stand up on a chair and waited for Chuck to offer his back, before she jumped on, ruffling his hair. "Dammit, I told you to stop doing that."_

"_Can't help it, it was there, begging to be put in disarray. Onwards to the Bassmobile! Don't worry. I'll make it up to you. We can even play Xbox," she said magnanimously. "And I promise to let you win when we play Halo or Call of Duty!"_

"_I do not _lose_," Chuck snapped. "Why are you buttering me up?"_

"_It's been a rough day, and you don't want to talk about it," she shrugged. "I'll bake you cookies…"_

_Chuck sighed resignedly, but Blair could tell he wasn't upset at all, if anything he was completely _comfortable_. _

She couldn't mask her surprise though. It was utterly _unromantic_, platonic, really. The few times she and Chuck had been the last ones at an event, and her feet had ached, Chuck had nearly worshipped her feet while he removed her shoes, rubbing her soles soothingly, before he would sweep her in his arms and carry her to the limo. It was as though he were honor-bound to lavish attention on every part of her body. And hell would freeze over before he ever asked her to play video games. It was so sibling-like.

"Blair!" Henry called out, exasperated.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, as she looked sheepishly at Henry. "Sorry!"

"Thought we lost you there for a second," Henry replied. "Anastasia wants to say goodbye."

After all the hugs and kisses and promises of next time were settled, the happy family walked off in one direction, as the two women remained standing next to one another.

"We're nothing alike," Blair blurted out suddenly.

"Am I supposed to find this surprising?" Henry asked, not following her logic.

"I always thought that whoever Chuck dated after me, would either be a knock-off version or the polar opposite. You—however, are not the anti-Blair—but you're nothing like I expected or someone who I would have ever thought appealed to him," she explained.

Henry laughed. "So I'm _not_ the anti-Christ? Someone should tell Serena."

Blair couldn't help but join in with her infectious laughter. And when she gestured to start walking, she fell into an easy pace next to her.

"No, we're nothing alike," Henry agreed. "I think that's part of why we're both so important to him and why we each occupy a very different part of his heart."

"How do you do it? How can you have an understanding with him and share him? I want to gouge your eyes out, and he's not even _my_ boyfriend!" Blair exclaimed.

"I'm still a virgin and until we get married he needs to exercise his lust on other women," Henry deadpanned.

"What?" Blair squeaked. The twinkle in Henry's eyes had the two laughing hysterically.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I shouldn't say things like that, you don't know me well enough to know I have a very odd sense of humor."

"I don't understand this," Blair admitted. "But I actually _like_ you."

"You do?" Henry bounced up and down. "This will make everything _so_ much easier then. I was worried you wouldn't like me, that you'd feel too threatened."

"Blair Waldorf does not feel _threatened_," she told her haughtily.

Henry rolled her eyes, "Well, Henrietta Park doesn't like to refer to herself in the third person, but I just did. Get over it, you feel threatened."

"That's the other thing I don't get, how are you _not_ threatened? For all you know, I could be pure evil, scheming to steal Chuck from you! First love and all," she couldn't resist throwing out.

"You can't be _pure_ evil, 96.21%, maybe. Otherwise, how could Chuck love you?"

Blair gasped, wondering if it was Henry's deliberate intent to use the present, not past tense.

"I wish I could explain everything to you, but unfortunately I am bound by my word not to do so," she said apologetically. "But you should know, if Chuck decides he wants to be with you, I am more than ready to step aside."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because he's my family," Henry said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Whatever makes him happy, I support. I lost my parents in a car accident when I was six, and had to move in with my father's older brother and his wife. They never let me forget for one moment that I owed them something—that they were the ones who had magnanimously provided me with everything I had. That anything I would become would be attributed to their _generosity_. Any decision I made would be a reflection of _them_, and they hoped I would never shame them with my behavior. I was their puppet. They got to decide _everything_. The only times I was allowed to choose, was if it suited their purposes. I wanted to go to Berkeley, to be near someone I love very much—but it wasn't prestigious enough. They said if I were going to attend a UC, I could attend UCLA so I could commute from their home—no extra expenses incurred on their part. I made damn sure I got a scholarship to Stanford, just so I could at least be close to him."

Blair noted the sadness that started to fill Henry's eyes and she was alarmed at the depth of her sorrow. In a flash, Henry cleared her throat and the darkness from her eyes disappeared.

"I'm just trying to say, that right now, Chuck and I are each other's family. We don't have anyone else."

"That's not true, Chuck has Nate and Eric and Serena…" _and ME! He has me!_ Blair desperately wanted to say, despite the fact that it hadn't been true for so long.

"Don't use the word 'family' and the names 'Serena' and 'Eric' in the same sentence," Henry seethed. "I _know_ you know what happened. Did they tell you that after he got BI back, he had the adoption papers dissolved? _They_ were supposed to be his family—and they let him just walk away. Didn't even bother to contest the dissolution or acknowledge it! He waited for some sort of indication that they felt like he did—that the piece of paper didn't have to change anything. That even though Serena didn't tell him what Lily was doing, they could move past it—_eventually_. After a few months, he never brought the topic up again—he had stopped hoping that he would get reassurances. They still insist that he has lunch or dinner with them once a month. It's awkward, he feels like it's out of pity—a consolation prize from having been ousted from the family. How he still manages to be in the same room with them is beyond me."

Blair was stunned by the anger Henry demonstrated. She was beginning to see why Chuck would love her, she was fiercely loyal. The enormity of what happened between Serena and Eric and Chuck was sinking in.

Henry laughed bitterly, "Do you know _Lily_ has never bothered to actually apologize? She was supposed to be his mother, and she abandoned him. In fact, speak to any board member that is in contact with her, and they will confirm how Lily insists to this day, that it was for his own good. So when he and I met, we became each other's family—we both had no one."

"Henry," Blair whispered. "I'm so sorry, no one told me about Lily."

"So you understand, right?" Henry pled. "Why I only want him to be happy? That you are the only person I would hand him back to?"

"What?" She asked shocked. "I'm not trying to take him away from you!"

"You should. The heart wants what it wants," she said quietly. After a long pause she continued, "I'm sure I've already said too much. And I don't want to get into another fight with Chuck about you. But please, think about what I said, ok?"

Blair nodded.

Henry linked her arm through hers and with an exaggerated sigh that washed away all the intensity of their conversation said, "I'm clearly underdressed for your standards. So perhaps, _**I**_ should pick where we eat."

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His finger hovered over the 'SEND' button on his phone, and he was still being indecisive. He was the CEO of a fucking billion dollar company, and he couldn't commit to calling his ex-girlfriend, just because he was afraid of her breaking his heart, again.

Chuck sighed—this is what he hated about loving Blair Waldorf. He felt completely out of control, as if he was constantly surrendering himself, with no way of remaining in tact. Well, he just needed to do it, and pull the band-aid off in one sharp yank.

He pushed 'SEND' before he over-thought this anymore.

"Chuck?" Blair answered. He noted her surprise.

"Blair," he greeted her civilly.

"Can I help you with something?" she asked uncertainly.

"Would you agree that in at least one point of our relationship, you genuinely cared about me—that we were friends?" he asked painfully.

"Are you really asking me that?" Blair wondered aloud. "You know I did, Chuck. I've never cared about someone as much as I've cared about you in my entire life."

He wanted her words to undo every ounce of hurt he had felt since the moment she walked away from him all those years ago. But her words from a few days ago were like a fresh wound. _Chuck is always going to be a mistake_, kept ringing in his head, over and over.

"Then please do me this one favor and stay away from Henry," he ground out. "If, as you say, you cared about me, for the memory of our past, please don't take her calls, don't meet with her, just stay away from her."

"Why?" Blair asked.

"Because she thinks she's helping, and she's not. And as long as you are encouraging her, she and I will keep fighting. I can't fight _both_ of you at the same time, so please, give me Henry back," he said.

"But I _like_ her, Chuck."

"Find someone else to befriend, Blair, _she's mine_."

"Isn't that her choice to make?"

"Blair, I'm asking you for this favor, are you going to do it or not?"

She paused, and he felt the blood drain from his face. Blair was not going to rest until she took everything away from him. How could she not understand that without her, he was already nothing? Henry was the tiny ray of sunshine that didn't make him want to die, every morning he woke up.

"I'll consider it if you answer a question," she finally said.

"Ask it," he hissed.

"Why is your girlfriend actively encouraging me to steal you from her?"

Chuck laughed hollowly. He had to hand it to Henry—she had technically adhered to his terms. After all, who would believe that she had agreed to be his shield, so that no one would question why Chuck Bass had changed his life and was living a fairly monastic existence? Giving the allusion that he was in somewhat of an ambiguous, possibly committed relationship, and the press and the board had backed off.

Over the years, his sexual encounters had been extremely limited and highly discreet. He had to be meticulous—he did not want to embarrass Henry, himself or BI. Even she didn't know the exact number of times he'd indulged. He had felt absolutely filthy every time afterwards, as though he were cheating on Blair. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had sex. Even with her living across the world with her soon-to-be fiancé, at the time, he felt as though he were subconsciously disappointing her. She hadn't even asked him to wait, and like a lap dog, he sat, hoping that the only woman who had ever had his heart, would come back.

Not wanting to add more lies to the ones he had already told, he opted to go with the much more effective truth, "I already told you, she's _not_ my girlfriend, far be it for you to believe anything I have to say. But to answer your question, she's not in love with me."

Blair gasped.

He continued, "She's not particularly attracted to me, either. I was trying to explain this all to you, when you ran out on me and ignored my twenty-six calls."

"Then why are you with her?" she asked in a small voice.

"Because she's my family—I love her and she loves me. I would appreciate it if you would stop trying to take the only person I have left in my life, away from me."

"Chuck, that's not love," Blair argued.

"There are different types of love," he snapped. "Are you going to stay away from her or not?"

"I don't know," Blair admitted.

"So, you're still the same selfish girl who left all those years ago? You never cared about me," Chuck accused.

"It's not cut and dry, and it's not that easy! I care about you, Chuck. But if she doesn't make you happy…" she trailed off.

"Who said she didn't make me happy? Don't put words in my mouth, Blair."

"I could make you happy, if you would let me try," she whispered. It was the closest she had come to asking him for a second chance.

"No, Blair, that ship sailed a long time ago—you made damn sure of it. You were right the other day, what almost happened between us was a mistake. I see that I shouldn't have bothered to call."

And before she could object, she knew he had hung up the phone. She willed herself not to cry, but the tears came anyway, as did the additional number of questions that always seemed to arise after she dealt with Chuck _or_ Henry.

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Henry walked around Nate's new apartment aimlessly as she maneuvered around the overly boisterous ex-frat boys and drunken sorority alumni. She really didn't want to be here right now, in fact, she wanted to be nowhere near these UESers. Originally she had planned on being one of the first ones there, dropping off the housewarming gift she picked up for him in London, and then making her excuses so she could go home and slip on her pajamas and watch the game. But, Chuck had been furious at her and informed her that after all her double-dealings, the least she could do was stand-in for him until he got there. If he hadn't been so terse, she would have ignored him. It was preposterous that Chuck was manufacturing Nate's _need_ to have a co-host, but he'd been so tightly wound up, that she found herself agreeing to do as he asked.

Blair had surprised her by avoiding her tonight. She had been hugged and greeted warmly, but then Blair kept disappearing before an actual conversation could be started, clearly dodging any attempts to be alone with her. And now, she had been waiting over two hours for Chuck to show up, and she was _bored_. Serena and Blair had been inseparable all evening, and a couple of times, Blair looked as if she were going to burst into tears. What she really wanted to do was lock both Chuck and Blair into a room, not letting them out until they had sorted out their differences.

From her vantage point, she could see Blair and Serena speaking animatedly on the balcony, and suddenly Blair shook her head, wiping the tears on her face. She strode off, snatching her jacket from the hall closet and disappearing out the front door. Serena just stared after her, until without warning, a glint came into her eyes, and she stormed off in the other direction, grabbing Nate mid-conversation and dragging him through a pair of French doors.

Henry's instincts told her that was a conversation full of information. She glanced around the room and saw no sign of Chuck, so she made her way across the room. With the party in full swing, and music playing loudly, no one would miss a thing. She cracked open a window to the terrace and proceeded to listen to Nate and Serena's conversation.

"You're saying you _knew_ that Blair sent Chuck a birthday gift every year since they broke up?"

"So what if I did?" Nate said sullenly.

"So what?" Serena asked. "What did Chuck say? Why did he ignore her this whole time, but then choose to show up in Paris?"

"He may have never gotten them," Nate admitted. He cleared his throat, "I may have hidden them before he got a chance to discover them."

"You did _what_?" Serena hissed. "Did you lose your mind? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that the last time I saw Blair, she was in near tears asking me if she was making a mistake staying away from Chuck and trying to build a life. I told her no—and it worked out, Chuck won Bass Industries back on nothing other than his determination and his own skill. _He_ needed that, _she_ needed that for him. And then she almost undid all that discipline in staying away from him for nearly seven months because _you_ couldn't be his friend!" Nate defended himself.

"You're not actually _blaming_ me for this, are you?" She asked astounded.

"Well, it's obvious with what happened that Chuck wasn't talking to you, shit, _Blair_ wasn't talk to you! I'm sure her heart was breaking just thinking that Chuck would be alone on his birthday, dealing with the double loss of his mothers –Elizabeth Fisher and _yours_. You had a hand in both, you know. You were the one who forced Chuck to meet with _that woman_ the first time. And, well, let's not get started about your mother," Nate said maliciously.

"It doesn't matter what _I_ did, or what happened with Elizabeth and my mom. _YOU_ had no right to play god with whatever is between Chuck and Blair. You should've known better than that. I'm sorry, but did you not choose to put your own head in the sand when your father got released from prison? You were so wrapped up in yourself you didn't even realize what was going on around you. If she sent the gift, it obviously meant that she couldn't trust _you_ to remember to be a friend either. You have to tell her what you've done!" Serena argued back. "The longer you wait, the harder it's going to get and the longer she is going to hold a grudge against you."

"You have some nerve lecturing me about that!" Nate taunted cruelly. "You should've listened to your own advice…oh, wait, _you didn't_."

Serena grabbed Nate by elbow and glared at him. "What the hell do you think this is about? I lived it already and look how great that worked out for me! It has taken me almost four years to get my best friend back. And Chuck _barely_ tolerates me! So I'm warning you, it's better she find out from you than from someone else."

The anger drained from his face. "Serena, I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did," she said hotly. "But obviously _she_ didn't tell_ you_, she moved back here to see if she could make it work with Chuck, again."

"Why didn't she tell me?" Nate asked. "I wouldn't have—"

"What? You wouldn't have told her to bother? You would have told her not to do it? What exactly would you have done?" Serena interrupted. "Tell her Chuck's girlfriend is your favorite sports buddy? Tell her that she was making a mistake? Remind her that Louis was wonderful but Chuck would hurt her?"

"Just because Chuck's my best friend doesn't mean that I have to approve of everything he does! Just like you don't have to be so eager to agree with Blair, now that she's given you a chance to get back in her good graces," Nate snapped.

"No, Nate, I have to trust that _Blair_ would make the best decision for herself. And here's something else for you to chew on—Blair has now decided to get to know Henry better, to see if she really makes Chuck happy, because if she does, Blair's going to let Chuck go."

"Blair Waldorf would never let anything she really wanted go," Nate scoffed.

"How did she put it?" Serena ignored him and continued on. "Something to the effect of her having mailed Chuck a birthday gift every year, and if that hadn't prompted him to call or text her all these years, then perhaps he had moved on. That maybe he really had just come to her engagement party to say goodbye to her, not because he harbored any real sort of _feeling_ towards her."

"Serena!"

"No, Nate, you don't get to act like you're the only good guy here," Serena huffed as she poked him hard in the chest. "You speak Blairese—that all but means she's waited for him to come to her, but he hasn't, I wonder why?"

"He met Henry!" Nate fought back. "Henry's been great for him!"

"You're _lucky_ that he met Henry and it worked out well! But like it or not, she's _no_ substitute for Blair! Don't act like you did this for _him_, because clearly Chuck never factored into this for you! You just had to play knight in shining armor one last time for Blair, didn't you? Had to protect her from big bad Chuck! Don't you see you may have destroyed their chance?" Serena said angrily.

"Is that what this is about? Are you jealous?" Nate mused.

"Jealous? Of what?"

"_Blair_."

"Omigod, are you still in love with her?" Serena asked, stunned.

"Are you joking?"

"This is getting us nowhere!" She shook her head. "I can't talk to you right now, you're talking us in circles, and you're avoiding the issue at hand—that you robbed both Blair and Chuck the opportunity to decide if they wanted to be together. And I'm telling you, right now, if you don't tell Blair the truth, _before_ Chuck's birthday next week, then I'm going to tell Chuck what _you_ did. Now I wish he had moved out of the Empire long ago. I have no doubt that Blair would have sent him a gift this year, engaged to Louis or not, and he would have found out. But lucky for you, Chuck has a bigger heart than either of us—he's still talking to me, so it's a given he'll forgive you."

"Serena—" Nate reached for her arm, but she jerked it free.

"Just tell Blair already, and stay the hell away from me, Nate. Until you realize that you fucked up here, I can't talk to you," Serena shot back.

"Serena!" He called after her again. But she didn't falter or look back, and Nate stood there staring after her.

As Serena pushed her way through the French doors, Henry jumped back, hiding behind the row of ficus trees. She was trembling from what she had overheard. This madness that was Chuck and Blair was larger than she had even possibly imagined. It wasn't just Chuck's stubbornness and fears that were holding him back, it seemed that the world was hell-bent on throwing obstacles in their way. But, if Nate had withheld Blair's gifts from Chuck out of protection, could Louis have withheld Chuck's gifts from Blair out of possessiveness? She needed to find out.

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_**tbc**_

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A/N: Dun-dun-dun (imagine the series of bars an organ makes to indicate trouble, yeah, that one!)…

For my one and only beta, Noirreigne, who allows me to torture her with all the angst that I come up with.

To the readers and reviewers, if it helps at all, so _not_ how I had imagined this story to be unraveled in—I mean most of the elements are there, but it has evolved into its own beast—one I hope you find horribly fascinating that you can't look away? Thank you for still reading!

Crossing my fingers that I will update on the early wee hours of Friday en route to my week-long vacation in the Tundra, and hopefully I will be able to post another chapter from there, too!


	9. damNATEion

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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She had been waiting outside in the entryway across the street for over an hour now. The spring air was extra crisp tonight. She wished she had brought a warmer coat, but there had been absolutely no intent for espionage when she had gotten dressed for the evening. When she stormed out of there earlier, she had been so full of hurt that she hadn't thought to stay inside Nate's apartment and conduct a search for the presents that Blair had purchased for Chuck. He might have pulled an unnecessarily idiotic move, but he would never have been so conniving as to throw the gifts away. She was certain that he had _eventually_ planned on confessing to Blair about what he had done, perhaps after she had gotten married, but it wasn't in Nate to be so sneaky.

Flipping her phone open, she checked the time, irritated that she was waiting outside for her to come out those doors. She slipped her phone back in her purse, and started to rub her hands over her upper arms, hoping to keep warm. Her frustration was a bit amusing, she didn't even really know what she was going to say—she hadn't planned anything, but she knew this could not go on any longer. Nor, she was loathed to admit, could she do this on her own—she was far too outside this circle.

Just as Serena contemplated waiting until tomorrow to show up at unannounced at Henry's house, she spotted her walking out the lobby doors of Nate's building with a bulky coat over her arm. Deftly slipping out of the shadows, and purposefully crossing the street, Serena waited until Henry had walked at least a block away before making her presence known.

"Henry," she called out.

Completely startled, Henry flipped her head back and met Serena's eyes. There was a tinge of panic that disappeared so quickly, she wondered if she had imagined it. But then Henry clutched the coat to her chest tightly. With a half-hearted effort she sneered, "God, Serena, are you stalking me? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"What do you have in your arms?"

"Nothing," she said too quickly.

"I don't think so. What did you steal from Nate's house?"

"_Nothing_."

Tired from having waited over an hour for this confrontation, Serena charged forward to grab the coat from her arms, but Henry stepped back, moving the coat to behind her back. They sidestepped one another for a few moments, both glaring intensely at each other.

"Look, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Serena said.

"I'd prefer not to do this at all," Henry returned.

Serena stepped back for a moment and finally huffed, "This is not worth it."

She walked a few paces away, before spinning around quickly, catching Henry off-guard. The bulky garment fell to the ground, as four packages bounced out from underneath and settled on top of the coat.

Henry's face dropped, as she quickly knelt to collect the beautifully wrapped presents.

"Where did you get those?" Serena asked sharply.

"They were behind Nate's collection of tennis shoe boxes in the walk-in closet," Henry divulged.

"How did you—"

"I overheard your conversation with Nate. Well, actually, I saw you storm off after Blair left in tears, so I spied and heard most of what you two discussed," Henry admitted.

Serena nodded, unsure how to react. "I don't want to do this out in the street in middle of the night."

"Fair enough."

"Ok, we'll head to my place, then."

"Absolutely not."

"Seriously? You just said we could do this in private."

"I have no desire to run into _your mother_," Henry said disdainfully. "You are welcome to come to my home or we can find a bar, a hotel, a restaurant, _anything_, but I refuse to step foot into _her_ place of residence."

"Fine," she said as she hailed a cab. Once the two women sat in the car, she told the driver, "The Palace Hotel, please."

The two women sat in the cab uncomfortably, it was surprisingly the first time they had been alone the entire time they'd known each other. They both looked out the window and sat as far away as possible. Ten minutes later, they were sitting across each other in a booth, staring at their cocktails, instead.

"I know you don't like me," Serena started.

"'Like' is an understatement," Henry bit out, before she clamped her hand over her mouth. She put up her hand, "I'm sorry, that was completely unnecessary."

Serena tilted her head, shocked by her apology. She nodded her head in acknowledgement. Clearing her throat, she started again, "I know you don't like me, and to be perfectly honest, I don't care for you. However, I'm hoping that the bits and pieces of information I've heard from Blair and Dorota mean that we may have a similar objective. In fact, I'm certain that since you admitted to listening in on my conversation with Nate and smuggling out the gifts. I'm hoping that we do, instead of having opposite agendas."

"Can I trust you?" Henry asked honestly.

"I'm trusting _you_, and I have every reason not to," she offered back.

"I'm trying to figure out if Blair is in love with Chuck," she answered simply.

"Why?"

"Because if she is, I want them to be together."

"Really? What's in it for you?" Serena questioned. She really hadn't expected Henry to be so frank in her answers.

"Why does there have to be _anything_ in it for me? Chuck's like a brother to me, why shouldn't I want him to be happy?"

"BROTHER!" Serena exclaimed. "_That's_ what's been going on between you all this time?"

"He's been waiting for Blair to come back to him for almost five years. Wouldn't it be suspicious to have the hedonistic billionaire be almost entirely single this whole time? I agreed to pose as his ambiguously involved significant other, to hint at a low-key relationship, so that the press and the board would back off. But also, insuring that were Blair to come back and they jumped back into a relationship, nothing between us had ever been verified. Chuck and Blair would both escape looking like the bad guy," Henry explained. "Why, what did you think was going on?"

Serena flushed with embarrassment. "Honestly? I thought you might have been a gold digger. I mean you appeared to have traded up from having Nate ask you to move in with him and then suddenly becoming Chuck's 'favorite business associate'."

"Nate? What are you talking about?" Henry asked confused. "I met Nate almost a month after I met Chuck."

"You mean, you and Nate never…"

Henry's eyes bugged out. She then mimed gagging and vomiting. "Gross! NO!"

"Nate's not gross!" Serena said defensively. "And I heard him ask you to move in with him."

"He asks me to move in with him every time I make him pumpkin pancakes with ginger butter for breakfast," Henry rolled her eyes. "He also offers to take me away on vacation when I make beef short ribs. And sometimes he begs me to marry him when I make lemon panna cotta."

"I'm such an idiot."

"Won't argue with you there."

Serena wanted to ask more questions, but she feared that they were definitely veering off topic, and the point at hand was Chuck and Blair. She regained her focus, "So you and Chuck have never—"

"Don't even _finish_ that thought," Henry threatened as she shuddered in disgust. "I hate to break it to you, but I'm in love with someone else. I've _been_ in love with someone else since I was seven years old. I love Chuck with all my heart, but not in the way you thought. He's honestly like a brother to me—we're each other's family."

"But B distinctly recalls walking into his office and said you two were practically ready to have sex on his desk," Serena quizzed.

"That was entirely my fault. Dorota told me that Blair was jealous, that she thought I was Chuck's girlfriend. So, I may or may not have staged it to look as though Chuck and I were more than friends. It was extremely adolescent of me, but after everything that happened in Paris, I wasn't sure what her intentions were."

"Wait, what happened in Paris?"

"Well, Chuck went to see Blair the morning after their dance, and he ended up having a long talk with Louis instead. Louis said that Blair hadn't wanted to see him and returned the birthday presents that Chuck had sent her every year. They were still wrapped with notes that read 'I love you', and Louis made it clear that Blair was embarrassed that Chuck was still in love with her, and wanted to avoid him at all costs. He was on the verge of losing it, and asked me to leave London to be there for him in Paris. He was such a mess," Henry said sadly. Serena could see the empathy well in her eyes as she recalled the events. "So I found him at the Ritz Bar, and then took him upstairs where he fell apart."

"So _that's_ whenBlair saw you in Paris! Chuck had told her he wasn't seeing anyone, but then she saw you two at the bar and didn't know what to think. And then when you showed up for dinner that first night, B's been confused ever since," Serena filled her in. "She called it off with Louis the morning after the engagement party because of the dance with Chuck the night before. And I am 100% positive that she didn't know about his presents, because even if she _had_ been over him, she would have sent him a card or note to acknowledge it. She never would have ignored him."

"So there non-relationship is due to a series of events that was out of their control?"

"Yup."

"That's kind of tragic."

"No, it's Chuck and Blair," Serena said wryly.

"So how are we going to do this? I've been trying to do my best to fix it, since that stupid idea to pretend I was Chuck's girlfriend. I told him it was going to bite him in the ass, but he's convinced that something went wrong in Paris, and that she came back to him as a backup plan."

"Yeah, that something that happened in Paris was _him_."

She gestured for Serena to continue.

"Blair said that being in Chuck's arms felt like home."

Henry beamed in happiness. She went into delegation mode, "Ok, so let's get this timeline straight and figure their stories out so we know which buttons to push. We'll do it chronologically starting from when Chuck got Blair into Yale and—"

"WHAT? IT WAS HIM?"

Henry cringed. "He's going to kill me! I think I'm the only one he ever told."

"He got her into Columbia, too. How had we not suspected?"

"Really? I didn't know that," Henry asked fascinated.

Serena took a deep breath, and before she lost her nerve she blurted out, "I never wanted to hurt him, you know. I made a mistake all those years ago, but I didn't do it because I didn't care. And I know he may never forgive me, but I don't want you think that it was done lightly or with malicious intent."

"I'm not the one who needs the apology, if you could even apologize for something like that," Henry said shortly.

"But clearly I do, if that's why you can't stand me. He was _my brother_, once. And just because he disowned us, doesn't mean he's any less my brother now," Serena said fervently. "And just so you know, Eric and I didn't find out about the dissolution until almost a year later, when my mom let it slip accidentally. They don't inform siblings, just the adoptive parent—and I'm sure you are aware of just how much my mother likes to keep things concealed. But by then it was too late, and we didn't want to bring it up, because so much time had passed."

"I see."

"So thank you, for taking care of _our_ brother," Serena said quietly, her eyes filling with tears.

Henry reached out and squeezed her hand lightly. "Yes, let's reunite _our_ brother with the love of his life."

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When Chuck found Nate, there was a very attractive blonde straddling him and sucking on his neck. With an amused smile, Chuck tapped on the door, to get his friend's attention.

"Chuck," Nate flashed him a smirk before whispering into the girl on his lap's ear. She stood up with a pout, and straightened her too short dress, before flipping her hair.

"I'll be waiting," she said breathily.

As she walked out the door and passed by Chuck, she made sure to rub her body up against his, smiling seductively in invitation.

"I see the quality of women you've been cavorting with has declined—she wasn't so discriminate, Nathaniel," Chuck observed, watching her walk down the hall into Nate's bedroom.

Nate shrugged, "She's hot and she's does this thing with her tongue that I love. What can I say?"

Chuck laughed. "Who would've thought that we would eventually trade places, and you would be the bigger slut?"

"I prefer, man-whore, thank you," Nate grinned. "Sit down. I haven't talked to you all night."

He hesitated for a moment, he wanted to go home. Despite being intentionally late to the party in hopes of avoiding Blair, his heart had sunk when he realized she had already left. Instead of feeling assured that he had done the right thing—he found himself craving a glimpse of her. The phone call from a couple of days ago was still fresh on his mind. He needed to go home and clear his head.

"I really should get going. It's been a rather intense work week and I'm exhausted."

"But Henry already left, so it's not like you have anything to go home to, right?" Nate challenged. He handed Chuck a glass of scotch, and gestured for him to sit down.

Chuck narrowed his eyes, _this one, too?_ He sat in the armchair across from Nate and said nothing. Taking a sip of the scotch, he waited until the blonde spoke first.

"So, uh, how are things going with you two?"

"Fine."

"No trouble in paradise?"

"Not particularly."

"So things are good?"

"What is this about?" Chuck asked tiredly. The small talk was not masking Nate's attempt to segue into his hidden agenda. He wished he'd just say whatever it was he wanted to say already so he could answer as briefly as possible and go.

"Well, it's just that we haven't really talked since _Blair_ moved back into town, you know?" Nate said pointedly. "I was just wondering if the pressure of Blair being back was getting to Henry, thus causing problems for you."

"Apparently Blair likes Henry, it's a mutual admiration society between them two," Chuck admitted.

"What? That's very un-Blair-like of her."

"There's no reason for her _not_ to like Hen, is there?"

"Well, you know how jealous Blair can get," Nate said, giving him a look that said _come on_.

"And what would there be for her to be jealous of? She was the one who ended things with me," Chuck said quietly.

"But, it's Blair! I'm sure this was her elaborate form of punishing you until you had groveled properly."

"It's a closed chapter, Nathaniel. Now, if you don't mind, I really—"

"I might have done something unforgivable," he interrupted.

"Let me guess, this concerns Blair?" This was exhausting and ironic. After all these years, _now_ he wanted to talk about her.

"Well, it concerns both of you."

Chuck looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. So much for the past staying in the past. Out of everyone, it seemed that he was the only one who didn't want to look back. He nodded in agreement for Nate to continue.

"Before you get upset with me, I just want you to know that I did this to protect _her_. Ever since the whole situation with Jack and the Empire—"

"Yes, Nathaniel, it has not escaped my notice that what I did was despicable and beyond repair. _That_ was unforgivable. I'm sure whatever it is you think you've done is child's play in comparison. Do we really need to rehash this right now?" Chuck snapped.

"Yeah, man, we do. We never talked about it again, and I let my distraction with breaking up with Serena effect my being furious with you," Nate snapped back. "And let's not forget the Jenny and Eva situations, or you torturing Blair at Columbia."

"Do you think I don't live with the consequences of my actions every day? _She_ left me, Nate. She is the only thing that has ever mattered to me, despite how I've treated her, and I lost her. I don't need you reminding me what I re-live daily, wondering how and why I did what I did. And I love her so much that I let her go. I just stopped being Chuck Bass—stopped stalking her, stopped interfering with her life, stopped preventing her from moving on—I stopped all of it. I hoped that if I left her alone long enough, she would be able to forgive me. Is this what you want to talk about?"

"Chuck, I didn't know…"

"Didn't know what? That I figured out the minute she said she needed to be 'Blair Waldorf' before she could be my girlfriend, I knew she blamed me for who she had become? She wanted to erase our past, Nathaniel! The only thing that has any value are my memories of her, of us. So, as delightful as this walk down memory lane has been, I think I better—"

"She sent you birthday gifts every year, and I hid them from you," Nate blurted.

"No, that's impossible," Chuck said, shaking his head. There was no way that she would have sent him gifts, _not_ if she had ignored his.

"It's not. I hadn't planned on keeping them from you, just that first one. But you hadn't been home for _days_, and there it sat on the kitchen counter begging me to hide it. I had visited her at Yale during her first semester, and she was a mess, Chuck. She thought that by not helping you with the whole Lily-Bass Industries thing, she was turning her back on you. I told her that it was ok for her to choose herself before she chose you."

"Of course you did. You haven't really trusted me since you thought I stole her away from you, junior year."

"That's not true!"

"You sure, Nate? Do you really want to do this?"

"You're my best friend, man! I trust you," Nate argued.

"Right, so you trusted me enough to tell me about your financial problems—no, wait, that was _your mother_ who had to tell me. And when you found out I offered her a loan, you told me to back off and refused my offer to help. Were you trusting me when I tried to have you come back with me to the Palace, only to have you thumb your nose at me and move in with the Humphreys? Perhaps you trusted me after my father died? No, you were too busy stealing the love of my life away from me after I messed up. Or did you start trusting me when you needed a place to stay, and I offered you the room at the Empire? No, I'm pretty sure that you _trusted_ me the moment you took Blair's side about the Jack situation before you knew all the details. Because you certainly didn't trust me when I told you Carter was back in town and Serena was meeting up with him. You concern and attempts to contact me didn't go unnoticed when I was presumed dead in Prague and I left you at the Empire with my little black book," Chuck said acidly.

The blood had drained from Nate's face and he looked upset and hurt and contrite, all in one.

"I'm not surprised you took Blair's side, in fact, it was fairly clear that you had once she started Yale. I'm not upset about it, and really, it was expected. We never talked about her, but I knew you were talking to her all the time, knew that you spoke to her more often than she spoke to Serena."

"I wasn't taking sides, honestly, Chuck."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night. So, I guess it's you I should be thanking for feeling completely isolated and alone on my 20th birthday? That the only thing I had to keep me from killing myself was the fact that I had actually won my father's company back from that two-timing lying ex-mother of mine?" Chuck asked bitterly. "I had _nothing_, Nate. Not even you."

"I'm sorry you felt that way, sorry that I wasn't there for your enough, but I am _not_ going to apologize for protecting Blair. What would have happened if you had gotten the gift? You would have had Arthur drive you up to Yale that very instant. And you would have hurt her all over again. She had been so good, she stayed away from you for all those months, and here she was giving you the opening to swoop back in and bring chaos into her life, like you _always_ do. Maybe it wasn't right for me to make that decision, but I wasn't going to sit back and watch you hurt her again. She was only a shell of who she used to be, Chuck. If you saw her the way that she was, I know you would have done the same thing."

"Well, we'll never know, now will we?" He stood up and placed his barely touched scotch on the table next him. It was Nate's voice that stopped him from leaving the room.

"She moved back here for you."

"Somehow, I highly doubt that."

"She told Serena the night after the engagement party, she said she was moving back to fight for you. Blair was the one who ended things with Louis, after she danced with you at their engagement party, she said she couldn't settle for anything less than what she had with you."

"Blair said that?" His heart was pounding; amidst all this pain there was a sliver of hope. If she really had come back for him, then maybe they still had a chance.

"According to Serena," Nate confirmed.

"I have to go."

"Chuck," Nate called out. "I'm really sorry, about everything."

He nodded. "I'm going to need some time."

"Well, I'll be here, for real this time. And I trust you, man—with my life. If you need anything, just ask."

Chuck closed his eyes and stood for a moment. "That's entirely the point, Nate, I shouldn't _have_ to ask."

He needed to get out of there and process everything that happened—it was too much, too many old wounds rising to the surface. Without another word, he walked out the door and down the hallway and out of Nate's apartment.

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It was past two in the morning, when he found himself in the elevator on his way up to her penthouse. He had been walking aimlessly for the past couple of hours. The emotional roller coaster that he had been riding for the past couple of months, since he first got the invitation to her engagement party, had taken its toll. The conversation with Nathaniel had left him completely drained for entirely different reasons—he felt betrayed. Buried deep beneath the surface, Chuck had never wanted to acknowledge the superficial nature of his relationship with Nate that had developed since the moment Blair Waldorf had stripped on the stage at Victrola. The revelations of tonight hit too close to home, and with Henry practically defecting to take Blair's side, he felt abandoned—isolated.

And so against his better judgment, he was going to go to the only place where he could bury himself away from all this pain—he wanted to go _home_, and _home_ was wherever _she_ was. The elevator doors slid open to a pitch black foyer, and he easily navigated his way through the dark, as he had done countless times in the past—little, in the way of décor, had changed. As he climbed up the stairs, one by one, he didn't even let himself consider that she might be unhappy to see him.

He opened the door to her bedroom quietly and he could see the rise and fall of her chest. Chuck slipped off his jacket and folded it over her desk chair as he stepped out of his shoes. Next, he removed his tie and his watch, before unbuckling his belt. His shirt, pants and socks followed, until he stood by the bed in nothing but his boxers. Gently, he raised the duvet and slipped into her bed, his arms wrapping around her waist. She murmured his name, and he smiled as he buried his head in her hair, and drew her closer to him. As he closed his eyes and thought about falling asleep, she shifted suddenly in his arms.

"Chuck," she breathed as she opened her eyes and met his.

He remained silent as he brought his forehead down to touch hers.

"You're here," she whispered, raising her hand to wipe away the tears that had trailed unconsciously down his cheeks.

"I can't fight you anymore," he said hoarsely.

Blair leaned up and kissed him softly on the lips. She snuggled into him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she rested her head on his chest. "Are you still going to be here when I wake up, this time?"

She felt him nod. She smiled, grateful for whatever it was that sent him to her tonight. As she felt his breathing even out and her body grow drowsy, she laced her fingers through his. She brought his hand to her mouth to press a kiss, before closing her eyes and falling back asleep.

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_**tbc**_

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A/N: Oh Nate! What is wrong with you, other than the fact that you're are _my_ messed up version? The next chapter does start out a bit smexy…but a long road to go, still. SO not going to finish up this story by the time GG airs on Monday. I am, however entering the cone of silence, save for the next episode, I am taking a full on break from watching, spoilers, etc...but not from writing! (So please, NO comments about what's happening in the show or the potential spoilers).

For Noirreigne, who I hope will not wake up one day and wonder why she still betas my work, because then I would be devastated.

For my loyal readers and reviewers, I hope I am still maintaining your interest. There is still so much more that Chuck and Blair need to work out, and if you know my style at all—I try and address everything. Thank you for reading.

My apologies for getting this up so late, let's just say drunk packing at 2:30am for your flight at 6:25am is NOT smart, nor is pulling an all nighter! And apologies again if this is as sharply edited as usual...still hungover!

One final note, I am feeling the need to pimp Elysian Fields "Someone" which has been my recurring soundtrack while writing the bulk of the story.


	10. clusterchuck

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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**A/N 2.0: The beginning of this chapter may be a tad bit M-ish.**

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It was the delicious feel of skin-to-skin contact that tickled his senses, luring him to wake up. He could feel her breath dancing lightly on his flesh as her nails scraped gently across his chest. Her tongue traced patterns onto his neck and he could hear the self-satisfied noises she made when she was amused with herself. All of it was so vivid—there were too many nuances for it to be even the most animated of hallucinations. His eyes flew open the exact moment she impaled herself on him and the vision of her writhing over his body was a religious experience.

"Blair," he whispered her name like a prayer, unable to stop his hands from settling on her hips as he timed his thrusts to her rhythm.

She smiled like the Madonna and he wanted to live in this moment with her for all of eternity. His eyes hungrily catalogued every detail of her—from the trickle of sweat that fell across her left breast to the way she formed crescent marks on his upper arms—and committed to memory Blair in all her sensuous glory.

It was the most resplendent way to wake up, and when she collapsed against him breathless, he could only thank the heavens for returning her back to him. He shifted their positions so he was above her, and cradled her face in his hands. With everything he was he confessed, "I love you."

Her smile was serene and blissful, and he rolled them back so she could rest atop him. And in moments, they were both asleep.

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The second time Chuck woke up that morning, it was neither as indulgent nor as sublime. He subconsciously reached for her, finding an empty space next to him. His eyes flew open as he heard her laughter. He sat up, only to see her watching him from the window seat, wrapped in her dark purple robe, and hair thoroughly rumpled. She sipped coffee from a mug and her eyes twinkled.

"Blair," he grumbled unhappily. "Why do you insist on depriving me of one of my three favorite sensations in life?"

"What are these sacred sensations you speak of?" she teased curiously.

"The way you feel in my arms when I dance with you," he offered.

"Two…"

"The way my skin burns in the shower from the scratch marks you've left on my back," he said shyly.

She laughed deliciously before saying, "And three…"

"The way I feel when I wake up next to you in my arms and know that nothing could be more perfect than to have you by my side," he said sincerely.

The pink flush in her cheeks assured him that his honesty had produced favorable results. "So why don't you come back to bed, and I can pretend that I haven't already woken up, and you can greet me properly.

The eagerness in her eyes had him pulling back the duvet and patting her empty side of the bed in invitation. As she was about to stand up, her eyes fell to her phone sitting next to her, and suddenly the readiness to lose herself in the lightheartedness of the morning turned to indecisiveness.

Hesitantly, she said, "Nate called."

Chuck's face was expressionless, and in a very quiet voice he said, "I don't want to talk about it right now. I _can't_ talk about it right now."

She bit her lip with concern. "Henry called from your house, Nate asked her to find you. I'm worried, Chuck."

In an attempt to salvage the easy rapport they had just shared, Chuck charmingly said, "Mornings should be spent, _in_ bed, _not_ talking and requiring a very thorough examination of how many different ways I can make you scream my name. Surely we can wait until tomorrow to have that discussion? We should be making up for lost time."

Blair looked as though she were still wavering, when she shook her head and firmly said, "No, I think we should talk about this now—before there are any more misunderstandings."

"Please, Blair, it's still too fresh—any day, but today," he pled.

"I think we've waited long enough."

"I am willing to talk to you about _anything_ other than _Nate_," he attempted one final time.

"But he's your best friend," Blair insisted.

The carefree enjoyment of their morning banter had been spoilt. All softness and amusement was removed from Chuck's face. "Now? You _really _want to talk about what happened last night with Nate _now_?"

"What's wrong with talking _now_?"

"Funny how you always get to decide when the talking or the _not_ talking happens. Last time _**I**_ wanted to talk, and you wouldn't even entertain the thought of listening to me. Now that I _don't_ want to talk, and spend the morning in much more satisfactory ways, _you_ are insisting that we talk?" As he spat the words out, it occurred to him that she had not returned his words of endearment after they had made love that morning. He threw the covers off the bed, and stood up, reaching for his clothes to get dressed.

"Chuck! What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm leaving."

"Why won't you just talk to me about this?"

"That's the thing, Blair, I _don't_ want to talk about it. Besides, it's all in the past, the past that you were once very willing to throw away. Why does everyone insist on talking about the past right now? We can't _change_ any of it, can we?" He fumed.

"You're upset! Nate's upset! Henry's upset! Everyone is upset! If we just talk about it now, I can help you move past this," she implored. She walked over to him, as he buttoned up his shirt. Blair placed her hand on his arm but he shrugged it off.

"Again, things I wanted to do the last time, but you denied me. You don't get to control every last bit of our relationship, Blair. You want to talk right now? _Too bad_, because I don't feel like talking. I refuse to talk to you because Nate has told you how he's wronged me and I deserve a chance to plead my case to you. I shouldn't have to rely on Henry voicing her concerns just so _you_ will think I'm _worthy_ of being listened to," he raged on. He threw on his jacket and slipped on his shoes and headed for the door.

"Chuck! Why are you being like this? I'm not trying to control anything! I just want to be here for you, why won't you let me?" she begged as she followed closely behind him.

"_**THIS**_ is your attempt of being here for me? What about being there for me without being told by someone else that I should be listened to? I ran after you, called dozens of times and begged you to listen to me before the gala." He stopped in the middle of the stairs and turned to glare at her, "I have waited for almost five years for you to give me another chance. I have stayed away from you, I haven't plotted, I haven't schemed, I have been sitting here waiting like a pathetic lackey praying that you would even look at me. You still don't _trust_ this thing between us. You're looking for any chance to pull away."

"That's not true, Chuck!" Blair cried. "I came back for you, I couldn't be without you any longer."

"Really, Blair?" He said in a deceptively quiet tone. "You have a funny way of showing it. I told you _I love you_, and you still haven't said it back. Instead you want to talk about _Nate_, everything but _us_."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it's true. You were right, about the past, our history and everything we've been through—I'm _tired_ of it. I have spent this whole time apart, clinging to them, and look where it got me, the same place as before. Me—having to beg you to think I'm good enough for you." He turned around and resumed his path down the staircase.

"Chuck—please!" she implored as he stepped into the elevator.

"I have always just wanted to _be_ with you."

"Then stay here and _talk to me, be with me_."

"I'm sorry, but I'm done," he said brokenly. His eyes were closed as he leaned against the wall inside. He heard her gasp, but she did not say a word nor move to stop the door from shutting. He willed himself not to cry as walked out onto the street.

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"Chuck! Chuck!"

He continued walking down the street, oblivious to his surroundings. She almost snapped her heel running down the block after him. She cursed herself for not having gone home and changed first, the all-night plotting session had left her in the clothes from the night before. Her cab had just pulled up, when she saw Chuck dejectedly walking out of Blair's building. She had fumbled finding cash in her purse, and apologetically threw a hundred dollar bill at the cabbie, hoping that Chuck had not gotten too far away.

"Chuck!" She said breathlessly, "I've been calling your name for the past block!"

Serena reached out and latched onto his shoulder before she stumbled back in shock. It was the same dead expression he had in his eyes the evening she had found him on the Empire's rooftop.

"What would you like, Serena?" He said emptily.

She took a deep breath, "I know I wasn't a sister to you when you deserved it, but I want to try and be one to you now. You were always there for me, even when you had every right not to be. Let me help fix this wrong between you and Blair."

"There is no 'me and Blair'."

"Chuck, don't say that. There will _always _be a 'you and Blair'."

"Always ended as of ten minutes ago. I appreciate your concern and your heartfelt apology, but as usual, your effort is wasted by horrible timing," he said listlessly. "Let's have lunch next week, call Sam and set it up. Invite Eric."

She grabbed him by his chin, and still, she saw nothing—not even a glimmer of the Chuck she knew. Serena whispered, "Chuck…"

He quietly pulled his chin from her hand and started walking away. About ten paces away, he called over his shoulder in the same lifeless voice, "Lunch, next week."

Desperately she wanted to run after him, but she didn't know what to do. This version of Chuck was one she didn't know at all. Her phone started to ring, and Blair's name flashed on the screen. Serena hesitated, looking back to Chuck's shrinking figure. A moment later she did what she almost always did—took Blair's side. This time, it was because she honestly didn't know if there was anything she'd be able to salvage with Chuck.

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"Listen, Henry, just let me talk to him, ok?" Nate begged.

"When will it penetrate through that feeble mind of yours that he's _not_ here?" Henry snapped.

"Listen, I know you're mad at me right now, but he left Blair's over three hours ago!"

"Again, I am not unaware of this fact, as it's the _fifth_ time you've told me. It still does _not_ make him here!"

"You are _not_ the gatekeeper, Henry!"

"Listen you man-bang sporting, empty-headed golden child, Chuck IS NOT HOME! I don't know where he is. Arthur says Chuck dismissed him last night after he left _your_ housewarming party. I'm sure your revelations about controlling his relationship with the love of his life, was only mildly debilitating. And I'm sure his fight with Blair has only heightened that, so for all I know, he is jumping off a bridge right now—thanks to _you_. If you know what's best for you, you'll wait for him to call _you_," Henry screamed, before slamming her phone shut.

She screamed again a moment later as she ran her hand through her hair. This was all too frustrating. She had been plotting with Serena until nearly eight am, and she had _just_ gotten home when Nate had called her in a panic. He confessed in a near-drunken ramble about how although she was Chuck's girlfriend, she had a right to know that she could never replace Blair. Henry had sighed and allowed him to continue on his misguided mission to enlighten her of facts she was more than glaringly aware of. _It had not stopped for nearly thirty minutes_. She had been on the precipice of falling asleep when he finally admitted that he and Chuck had gotten into an argument where he revealed to him that he had kept birthday gifts from Blair. When he started to nearly tear up that the gifts were no longer in his super-duper hiding place, she had lost it. She hung up on him, grabbed her coat and purse and hailed a cab to Chuck's house.

Nate had called her back repeatedly. She felt like she was a fucking priest. She was not a goddamn confessional! Somehow achieved in the twenty minutes it took for her to get there was Nate's excitement and awe that _no, her and Chuck had never been a couple_, and that he needed to call Blair and tell her the truth as well. He had hung up on her, much to her relief. When she had gotten to the apartment and found it completely empty—and his bed still made, a frown crossed her face. There was _no_ way that Chuck would have chosen last night for one of his quarterly evenings—if it was even that often. With Blair in town and this close, he wouldn't even think of thinking it.

In a panic she opted to call Blair, who had sounded quite upset. Blair had just hung up the phone with Nate, and as she had just told him, Chuck was asleep, but she would have him call her later. It was combination of wistfulness, tears and uncertainty in Blair's voice that convinced Henry to wait for Chuck at his house. She had been unable to get herself to fall asleep and so she did what she always did when nervous—cook. She had already made bolognese sauce and gnocchi. Henry was putting the tray of cookies in the oven when a voice startled her.

"You're cooking, at _my_ house," he observed. "What are you so nervous about?"

"Chuck!" Henry turned to look at him. She sighed in relief as she fought off the urge to hug him and tell him it would all be better—he had that hooded look that she had never been able to penetrate.

"Well? What has you so nervous?" He asked pointedly, daring her to comment.

"Nate called me and worked me into a panic, which was clearly misplaced as you are hale and whole," she answered back coolly.

"Yes, Nate's been quite the busy bee—especially this morning," he retorted as his eyes narrowed. "You look like shit, Henry. Are those the same clothes from last night? Have you even slept?"

"Nope! Had a marathon phone conversation with my old school friend from Stanford, by the time I was about to fall asleep, boy wonder called," she fibbed glibly.

"You're lying. But I don't care right now. Now, do you have anything else you wish to say, because you know your way out."

"Do you want to cancel our traditional plans for your birthday? Or would you like to leave a couple days early?" Henry asked gently. "I can go by myself, you know, it's ok."

"I don't know," Chuck said softly. "I feel like I'm too old to be running away, and even though this is our _thing_, I feel like that's what I would be doing. I want to be there for you…"

"You don't have to decide now," she countered. "I'm gonna wait until this batch of cookies are done baking before I leave. I made you gnocchi, so help yourself to some later. And I'll just assume you're not coming with me to San Francisco. You can always change your mind later."

He nodded silently and then walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to his bedroom. She pretended not to hear the painful screams he tried to muffle with his pillow when she let herself out twenty minutes later.

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"Say something, you idiot!" Serena hissed at Nate.

"No, _you_ say something!" Nate hissed right back.

As the pair continued their bickering, Blair finally looked up at them, "I am _not_ deaf."

She was still wondering how she had gotten to this exact moment in her life. The feeling of elation that Chuck had finally given in, and sought solace in her arms in the middle of the night had been gratifying. When he had said _I love you_, she thought her heart was going to burst into a million pieces. After their phone conversation, Blair wasn't sure she would ever hear those words from him again—and it had rendered her speechless. She didn't have the heart to wake him up again, when she became restless a couple hours later. He had been crying when he came to her bed—and he looked so peaceful in his sleep, that she had let him be. Blair had crept out of bed and went downstairs to make herself coffee.

How she wished she had turned off her phone and just lost herself into a world of her and Chuck. The conversation with Nate had been numbing—she was torn with loving him so much for trying to be such a good friend and wanting to inflict a long and painful death for his inability to mind his own business. And then Henry had called, and in the least intrusive way possible asked about Chuck's whereabouts. Once she had confirmed he was sleeping, Henry had simply said _thank you_ and hung up. Coupled with Nate's revelation that Chuck and Henry had _never_ been dating and the relief that was apparent in Henry's voice that Chuck was with her, Blair had found herself in shock. So many things made sense, but then at the same time, things made less sense.

Her mind had been spinning out of control with all the endless possibilities until she had gone back upstairs. Unsurprisingly, watching Chuck sleep had relaxed her. She loved being able to watch him unencumbered. Due to the amount of information she had just received, she didn't want to curl back next to him, afraid she'd be rash in her actions. It hadn't mattered—in the end, even though she had sat patiently for two hours for him to wake up, she couldn't stop from protecting herself at the last moment. All she had wanted to do was get back into bed and snuggle with him and be playful.

Blair had felt like she was going through an out-of-body experience the minute she watched herself say, _Nate called_. And thinking back on the words now, Chuck had merely wanted to delay their unavoidable conversation for _one day_. She was torn between wanting to clear the air completely now and just wanting to, as he said, _be with him_. And despite that this fight had been _exactly_ like all the fights they had had in the past, it didn't change the fact that she wanted him with her right now—fighting with her, _for them_. She was just so tired of hearing from everyone else what had happened—it was as though she and Chuck weren't even the main characters in their own lives.

She had instinctively called Serena, who had showed up to her penthouse in record time, and it was like Paris all over again—Blair had been unable to say a word. When Nate had showed up a couple of hours later, she was still catatonic. She vaguely noticed Nate leaving her room to make phone calls and there was muffled yelling in the background, only to have Nate reappear with a look of frustration on his face. Serena had just sat next to her holding her hand, and glaring continuously at Nate.

The two turned to look at her after she spoke for the first time in hours. She addressed Nate, "I am _really_ trying not to hate you right now. I need you to tell me exactly what happened between you and Chuck last night. I don't want to hear a single thing about what you were rambling about this morning. Just the events of last night."

Nate opened his mouth to speak, and Blair raised her hand to silence him. She turned to Serena and smiled, "Could you please give me a few minutes alone with Nate? I would love to have a cup of tea."

Serena hesitated a moment before shaking her head. "No, B, not this time. Too much has gone on between the four of us and we all have had secrets from each other. We're too old for this. Nothing you or Nate have to say to each other isn't eventually going to find its way back to me. I'd like to know what you two _actually_ said to each other, not how you plan on spinning it to me."

Blair inwardly smiled, _this_ was her best friend back, and she bit back a laugh at Nate's stupefied expression. "Point ceded. Nate—start talking now."

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_**tbc**_

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A/N: I know, I know, I'm evil. SO much ground to cover, but we're getting MUCH closer to the part where they have to be in a room, alone together, for real this time. Not next chapter but the one after that. We still have some interference to be run next chapter…such as the exact details of how Henry and Chuck first met...and a little thing you guys have been dying to have resolved—the birthday gifts!

For Noirreigne, who is my _amazing_ beta, who doesn't always agree with me, but gets me!

To the best readers and reviewers, EVER, the journey is in the very very very early stages of winding down!

P.S. TOTALLY LIED, decided I'm NOT watching Monday's GG or any of the episodes anytime soon. I KNOW NOTHING, WANT TO KNOW NOTHING, and am in a large aspect, spoiler free, so please, please, please, don't say anything.


	11. sisterly love

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment - "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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"Serena!" Sam enthusiastically exclaimed.

She smiled at Chuck's personal assistant. It always amused her that Chuck had ended up with an absolutely gorgeous, _straight _male assistant. Sam was easily six feet tall and built like a swimmer—lean and broad. He had the lightest green eyes, she had ever seen. They were made more prominent by his dark, almost black hair and pale skin. He had been with Chuck for over two years.

"Hello, gorgeous!" She teased back. "Is _he_ in yet?"

Sam's bright smile faded.

"I'm sorry, but he's requested that all appointments today be cancelled. And I've been told, under no circumstances is he receiving calls or visitors." Sam glanced around quickly before whispering, "Even Henry."

"But he's inside his office, now?" Serena asked lightly. This was worse than she thought.

He hesitated, "I really want to help you out, but I've never seen him like this before."

She nodded understandingly. "I'll make sure you get out of this unscathed."

And before Sam could say a word, she barged into the Chuck's closed office door, locking it firmly behind her. As she leaned against the door, her eyes met his—angry as he sat behind his desk.

"Serena," his voice lashed out in a bone-chilling tone. "I'm sure Sam told you that I was unavailable. When I said lunch, I meant during an afternoon hour, _to be scheduled in advance, _not for you to drop by on a whim."

"Chuck—"

"You have exactly ten seconds to get out of my office, or I will have security escort you out."

"NO!" She said determinedly. "I'll leave when I've finished what I've come here to say. If you want to hide behind your uniformed men—go ahead."

He glared at her with such hatred, she wanted to flinch.

Serena forced herself to walk to his desk and sat in a chair directly across from him. She took a deep breath and counted to ten. "I have been a horrible friend and sister to you for the past five years. Hell, I've probably never been a good friend the entire time you've known me. But regardless of what a piece of paper says or doesn't say—you're still my brother, Chuck."

"It's a little too late for that," he said bitterly.

"No, Chuck, it's not. You will always be my brother—like it or not. And Blair will always be my sister."

"Of course, let's get to the _real_ reason why you're here."

"I'm here for _both_ of you."

Chuck shot her a look of disbelief.

"I am!" Serena insisted. "I spent three hours with Henry last night on top of the eight hours the night before—all so we could help you."

"You despise her. She loathes you."

"True and true. However, we both _love_ you. And I love Blair, and I'm sure eventually Henry will love Blair, too. You know better than anyone else, Chuck, how impossible it is not to love her," she said softly.

"You have five minutes."

"I know Nate told you what a complete jackass he was…"

"You'll have to be more specific, there are too many instances to choose from," Chuck said hollowly.

"About this," Serena said, as she pulled the large, festively wrapped parcel from her bag and placed it in front of him.

She didn't miss the longing and hopefulness that lingered for a moment as he stared at the gift. His eyes grew cold once again.

"Blair sent this to you for your twentieth birthday," Serena informed him. "I think you should open it, _now_."

"No," he said too forcefully.

"If you open it, I'll leave," she promised.

"I have your word?"

"If after you open it, and you still want me to leave," she clarified. "Then, yes, you have my word, I will leave."

He nodded as he reached for the package. Serena watched as he seemed to be delaying actually opening it. He read the card attached first, _Just because we can't be together, doesn't mean we aren't friends…-B_, and saw the bittersweet smile that crossed his lips. She sighed, mentally crossing her fingers that this would work.

"Oh!" He exclaimed as he pulled out the large photo album from the box. It was a beautiful, royal purple, leather-bound, hand-stitched album. He opened it, nervously, wondering what he would find inside. The first picture was of him and Bart, when he was two-years old. As Chuck flipped slowly through the first few pages, they were all of him—either with Bart or alone. They were at various stages—from his infancy up to his first day of kindergarten. He couldn't remember having seen any of these photos before, and his brow furrowed.

"Blair asked my mom for all of Bart's photos, after the 1st anniversary of his death. Blair had always intended on making you a scrapbook."

Although he heard Serena's words, he couldn't quite manage a response. He started flipping through the book quickly, desperate to see what else Blair had included. The first third appeared to be of him and his father, with the last few pages including photos from Bart and Lily's wedding. The photos then shifted to snapshots from elementary school photos with Nate, until later in junior high school where the four of them had all met. There was even their favorite camera phone photo from the first day of freshman year in high school. He couldn't stop the smile from crossing his face.

"She wanted to give you something that let you know she cared about you. A gift that would actually mean something," Serena explained. "Something you could never erase."

It was the last third of the album he had not expected—pictures of _them_. There were so many, including silly ones that they had both promised never to show anyone else. Pictures he had taken of her when she was sleeping in his bed, during their first month together—he had felt the need to capture her on film, wanting a reminder of how perfectly she fit into his life, and how stupid he was to fight her for so long. There were photos of himself that she must have taken when he hadn't realized. Aside from the ones where he was sleeping, there were an array of shots—him laughing, him in deep concentration as he tied his bowtie, and him smirking while reading a text. Suddenly, he didn't care what he had overheard her saying at the gala or her pressuring him to talk about Nate yesterday morning—he needed to find her. She loved him, and he would do everything in his power to win that love back.

He stood up, "I have to see her. Apologize for walking out on her."

Serena held up a hand. "Before you go, there's something you should know."

"Serena, please—"

"She never got the birthday gifts you sent her. Louis must have hid them from her."

He shook his head violently. This was not possible.

"Henry's at her penthouse right now, giving her the last gift you sent to her. The one after you moved out of The Empire?" She clarified. "And she's telling Blair that I'm giving you this specific gift now."

"What have I done?" He said hoarsely. "Serena, what if she won't forgive me?"

"Chuck," she whispered. "The minute you showed up to the engagement party and she danced with you, she knew. She tried to leave her own engagement party to find you, but Nate, Louis and I all stopped her. So she waited until the morning after to call it off. She moved back here to see if you guys could work it out."

His eyes welled up with tears. "Do you think she'll have me?"

"You're Chuck Bass," she teased gently. "I'm sure you can convince her."

He pulled Serena into his arms, and hugged her tightly. He hadn't hugged her in so long. He murmured into her ear, "Thank you."

She hugged him back just as tightly.

"You will never stop being my family," she said fiercely before she started to sob. "I'm sorry that I didn't fight harder for you—reassure you that you'd always be my brother. I was just so ashamed, Chuck. And I was so grateful that you were still willing to have me in your life, I didn't want to do anything to upset the balance."

"I should have known," he said soothingly. In an attempt to bring a smile to her face, he mocked, "You never did know how to read my subtext, I was always better at decoding yours."

She laughed and sniffled, much to his relief. Serena wiped her tears with a hand, and smiled at him. "So don't do the Blair Waldorf thing, ok?"

"And what would that be?" He asked with a puzzled look.

"Wait to see if she comes to you first," she said pointedly.

He smirked. "Five years has been long enough, don't you think?"

"Too long," she said emphatically. "I've missed you, you know?"

"Of course you have."

"So take care of your number one priority first, and we'll figure this out, yeah?"

"Yeah," he returned.

She embraced him hard, once more. "I'll be on my way then. Call me if you need anything."

"I will," he said. As he watched her unlock the door and walk out, he was more surprised that he had actually meant it.

Chuck stared at the photo album on his desk. There were so many emotions he was feeling, that he didn't know where to start. He knew that the right thing to do would be to go find Blair right now, but he found himself grasping at straws. With everything that just happened, he didn't know if he even _knew_ what to say.

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Blair shifted in her chair as she poured a splash of milk into her tea. Dorota had left the tea tray moments ago, leaving her and Henry in silence. Instead of speaking, both women busied themselves unnecessarily with fixing their tea. She waited for Henry to begin speaking, since she had arrived unannounced, asking for an hour of her time. The last person she expected at nine a.m. was Henry, but she looked both burdened and determined. It only took one look at her face for Blair to know that she was aware of at least part of yesterday's events. Another minute or two passed before words were finally uttered.

"Do you want to know about the first time I met Chuck?" Henry asked softly. "I met him on his birthday, four years ago to date next Monday."

Blair bit her lip, she wanted to know _everything_, but she didn't know if she had a right to any of it—she had been the one that walked away. And Chuck had sounded certain yesterday when he said that he was done—he had never once said that before. Delicately she said, "Only as much as you're comfortable telling me."

"Then I should probably tell you everything," she concurred.

"Only if you want to," Blair protested. "You _don't_ owe me anything."

"I know," Henry smiled sadly. "And it should be Chuck that's telling you all of this. Unfortunately, I think too much has happened between you two, so I am an unauthorized emissary on his behalf. He doesn't know that I'm here."

She looked at her uncomfortably, "I don't want to make this any worse on any of us."

"You need to understand," Henry said firmly. After a pause, in a faraway voice, she continued, "Chuck likes to refer to me as his doppelganger. We met at a bar on his twentieth birthday—the twentieth anniversary of my parents' death. I hadn't been back to San Francisco, that's where they're buried, for four years—since I graduated from Stanford. And so I walked into this bar, and sat in a corner, kicking myself for not being a good daughter and visiting their grave. At some point that evening, Chuck stumbled into the bar—he was being an obnoxious twit, announcing how he was _Chuck Bass_ and he could buy and sell the place a billion times over."

Blair watched Henry in rapt fascination, as she saw her lost in her memories.

"I told him to shut the hell up and sit his ass down, that no one cared, and if he really were Chuck Bass, I'd shut the fuck up, before someone tried to take advantage of that fact. He plopped down next to me and actually shut up. I was congratulating myself on the victory of silence, when he turned to me and offered to buy me a drink. That if I was ballsy enough to tell him off, than I deserved a reward. I declined, of course, but he became insistent. So finally, just to shut him up _again_, I caved in and let him buy me a drink. Of course that led to him informing me that now I _had_ to tell him my name—and before I was about to snap at him, I looked at him, and he looked _so sad_. It was as if I had been the only person to really interact with him in a long time—treat him like a normal human being.

"So, I held out my hand and told him my name. His eyes grew round and he told me that I must be his doppelganger, that he had once dubbed himself 'Henry Prince' when he had destroyed the only thing he had ever loved. Then he told me that it was his birthday and he wasn't sure if he should be celebrating or not, he had just wrestled control of Bass Industries from his alleged adoptive step-mother. But he wasn't sure if had killed his actual mother by being born. I wished him a happy birthday, but told him it wasn't a happy one for me—that it was the anniversary of my parents' death. He demanded I tell him _my_ birthday—December 6th."

"That's the day Bart died," Blair whispered.

"That was the moment he just kinda _decided_ that we should be friends. He was almost fixated at this point—but he looked so lost, that I figured I'd humor him. I was convinced that he would forget all about this in the morning—there were too many coincidences for me to ever pursue the friendship," Henry explained.

"But we ended up talking all night, he told me about his Uncle Jack and I told him about my Uncle Jin. We had so much in common—we were only children, orphaned with evil uncles. And then—he started talking about _you_. For a moment I thought he was someone else completely, he just got so mesmerized in his own thoughts and memories—but he stopped himself quickly, and said you had walked away from him—and that he had deserved it, but he had hoped one day you would give him another chance. I think it was therapeutic for him—talking to a complete stranger."

Blair nodded. She was finally getting details of Chuck's life from when she was gone.

"But when he asked me why I was at the bar that night, I found myself telling him the truth. I told him that I was too much of a coward to go and visit my parents' grave, because I was afraid that I might chase after someone who ran away from me. The next thing I knew, he had called the Bass jet, and within hours, we were on our way to San Francisco so I could go to the cemetery," Henry said, as a tear fell down her cheek. "After that, we just instantly became family. I told him about my heartache and he told me more about you. And he has been patiently waiting this entire time for you to come back to him. Surely, you must know by now that nothing has ever happened between Chuck and I? That it was my fault that you walked in on what you walked in on at his office? I was just trying to make sure that you were here for the _right_ reasons, not just to break his heart again."

"I don't know what to say—" Blair paused, furiously wiping tears from her own eyes.

"He called me after your dance in Paris, I had _never_ heard him so happy until that moment. He went to your house the next morning—he was going to ask you if he imagined your connection during the dance. He was going to ask you for another chance."

Blair's eyes widened, "He was there?"

Henry nodded.

Acknowledgement registered in Blair's mind. _Someone trying to sell something—I got rid of him._ "He spoke to Louis, didn't he?"

"He did. Louis told him that you were embarrassed that he was still in love with you."

"Henry, I didn't know—" she started.

"He returned four birthday presents," Henry interrupted. "Presents that Chuck hand-selected every year and sent to you, so you would know he still loved you."

Everything clicked into place, Chuck's rudeness at her surprise 'welcome home' dinner, his need to pretend that Henry was his girlfriend, the hot and cold disdain and affection, why mentioning Nate yesterday morning would have pushed him over the edge. It had been a complete series of misfortunate events, beyond either one of their control.

She stood up, "I have to go see him, right now!"

Henry placed a beautifully wrapped present in front of her—stopping her in her tracks. "This was the present that Chuck picked out for you last year—after he moved out of the Empire."

"Where did you get this?" Blair asked as she held the unmistakable jewelry box in her hand—hesitant to open it.

"Please, as if his safe combination isn't the date before your 17th birthday? He is _so_ unoriginal," Henry joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

She fingered the package once more. The card attached was in his script, _The time for playing games has come to an end. I love you—Chuck Bass_. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she wondered if it was the gift she thought it would be. When she saw the diamond choker, she started to sob—_he knew. _He had known this entire time.

"Did he ever explain why he got me this?" Blair hiccupped.

Henry shook her head.

"It was senior year in high school, and we had just decided that if we couldn't say 'I love you' to each other, then we should wait before we were together. It's the only time he didn't spend some part of my birthday with me since we had first met when we were twelve. You know, I didn't even put it on hold at the jewelers, because I knew we were going to spend my birthday apart."

"He hasn't stopped loving you, Blair, not for one single moment."

"Do you think he'll see me?" She asked hopefully.

"Honestly? I don't know. He's gone to that place where I can't reach him. And right now Serena's at his office with one of your gifts," Henry admitted.

"S is involved?" Blair asked. "But you two hate each other."

"True," she acknowledged. "But we both love Chuck like a brother. And you're her sister. I like to think that you'll eventually become like a sister to me."

Blair smiled.

"But I'm also here to tell you that Chuck and I have a tradition, every year for his birthday, we go to San Francisco to visit my parents' grave. Just like every year since we've met, we go visit Bart's on mine. And I don't know if he's coming with me this year or not," Henry clarified. "I just don't want you to think he's running away if you find out he's out of town."

"I see."

"Just, please don't do the same thing he does."

"And what's that?"

"Wait to see if he comes to you first. Serena's telling him right now, that I'm giving you this specific gift, while she specifically hands him your first one. You are both so proud—it doesn't matter _who_ goes to whom—it just matters that you do," Henry put in. She reached over to lightly squeeze her hand. "I should get going. I'm sure you have a lot to process."

Blair smiled gratefully at her, and she watched as Henry got into the elevator. Her initial impulse had been to run to Chuck—but now, she wasn't so sure. But not for the reasons Henry would think—she just had absolutely no idea what to say to him.

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_**tbc**_

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A/N: I am certain that I do _not _have to tell you what chapter is coming next. I pinky promise—there will be no interruptions, just Chuck and Blair, in a room, hashing it all out.

As for the Henry Prince/Henrietta Park thing…it actually happened on accident, I didn't realize it until I was writing Chapter 8, and at that point, I was married to calling her Henry. So, I just rolled with it, and it just kind of enhanced the whole Henry/Chuck connection.

As always, for the amazing Noirreigne, who needs no other words.

Readers and reviewers—you guys kill me! I'm so grateful that you spend the time to read my scribblings, and sometimes scribble notes back at me. So thank you for your time.

The story is going to be a wee bit longer than I thought (which was already like 5 chapters longer than I had originally planned for), so it's looking like 16-18 chapters and then an epilogue. The chapters will be getting shorter, but much more focused (like this one was), I think. Although, the next chapter will most likely be the _longest_ one.


	12. the truth about chuck and blair

**A/N: Goes AU at end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely conversation between Chuck and Blair about "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't end on that bittersweet note? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. **

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**A/N 2.0: Warning: this chapter is pretty dense.**

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She clutched the card in her hand tightly, rereading the words carefully.

"_Blair—_

_Whenever and wherever you are ready, _

_for however much or little you'd like to talk._

_I am completely at your disposal._

_Love,_

_Chuck"_

The note had been accompanied by a modest bouquet of peonies and arrived within an hour after Henry had left. That had to have meant that Serena successfully gave Chuck his 20th birthday present. The messenger had waited patiently—apparently he was not to leave until she responded. After she fingered the flowers for a few moments, she scrawled her own note in kind.

"_Chuck—_

_7pm, your penthouse._

_XOXO,_

—_B"_

Once the messenger had left, she turned off her phone and spent what was left of the morning and most of the afternoon in solitude. It was as though she were chronologically replaying out her entire life with Chuck—since the moment he helped her see the _real_ her.

She stood outside the front door of his penthouse, giving herself a few more moments alone, before she rang the doorbell. There was a lifetime of hurt between the two of them, and they needed to settle their ghosts of the past, so they could start their future. It would not be easy, but she only wanted to do this once. So no matter how stubborn or hurtful Chuck or she could get, she needed to keep her focus.

Just as she reached over to press the doorbell, the door swung open. Blair jumped back, startled, her hand resting against her chest. A very nervous and sheepish looking Chuck stared back at her.

"I've been watching you through the peephole for the past eleven minutes. I gave the doorman strict instructions to call if you arrived," he confessed. He stepped back, allowing room for her to enter his home.

She nodded slowly as she waited for him to close the door, and then followed him down the hallway. He led her into the great room as he had done the last time she was there—the curtains still drawn open and the city lights of Manhattan serving as their backdrop.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" He asked as he gestured for her to sit down.

"No, thank you," Blair said politely, folding her hands in her lap. He sat in the armchair adjacent to her position on the couch.

The air was charged with so many emotions—uncertainty, fear and hope. They stared at each other for a moment, before looking away.

"So…" Chuck began.

Blair lifted her hand to stop him. "Please, let me start."

He nodded.

She took a deep breath, "I wanted to start by apologizing to you for Louis. Until I spoke to Henry this morning, I had no idea that you sent me a birthday gift every year. Furthermore, I was unaware that you came to my home the morning after the engagement party. I am certain that we would not be in this situation now, had I known. But I'm also devastated that you could so easily believe what he said to you, and not insist on speaking to me."

"What should I have done, Blair?" Chuck asked softly. "He told me you were embarrassed that I was still in love with you, and that you had asked him to return my gifts. We both know you're not averse to receiving presents. From everything I had heard about him, he was nothing, if not trustworthy. How could I challenge him, when he had merely vocalized my greatest fear? That you wanted nothing to do with me."

"How could you even consider that I would feel that way? Especially after that dance?" Blair demanded. She suppressed the pain that laced through her at the thought that he could believe she would behave that way.

"I don't know. But one of the last things you said to me was that you weren't sure if you could ever be with me again." Chuck shrugged. "To be honest, I was shocked that he even knew who I was. He seemed to know all about us and our relationship, and if you had confided the details to him, then perhaps, I didn't know you anymore. And if that was the case, then the dance was just the final goodbye."

"You need to know, that it was because of you and that dance, that I realized that whatever was between Louis and myself would never be enough." Her mind flashed to the night of the engagement party, and how on edge she had been that night. She had spent her entire evening waiting for Chuck to show up. She remembered how her body tingled when they touched, and how at home she had felt when in his arms. After he left, all she had wanted to do was to chase after him. Blair hoped she could get him to understand that his gesture had changed _everything_

"It occurred to me that I had never let him in—not the way you've always known me, and that I was pretending to be a version of myself," she disclosed. "But it was for _you_ that I moved back home—despite the fact that I may have misinterpreted what I saw between you and Henry in Paris. I had decided that if I still felt so strongly, that I had to try. I was coming back to throw my hat in the ring to see if you felt the same."

"I did—I do," he admitted. "But after what happened in Paris, with Louis, I didn't know what to think when you just showed up. You know how fractured my relationship with both Nate and Serena are, and you didn't call me to tell me you were moving back. I was still so broken up by the thought you had just been polite to me that night—that you hadn't wanted to hurt my feelings. It was only natural that I would think something must have happened after I left your house, that he had ended things. I assumed you had only come back because you knew I was still in love with you. It was just too much for me—to have waited for you for so long, only to finally to have you by default."

"I have _never_ been with you by default, _ever_. I have always _chosen_ to be with you," Blair snapped. "Don't make it seem like you weren't my first choice, _always_."

"Then why didn't you stay, Blair? Five years ago—why were you so ready to leave? How could you walk away from everything we had?" Chuck asked. From the way his body had gone entirely rigid, it was apparent that _this_ was the question he wanted answered most.

"Because I was _scared_, Chuck," she said quietly.

"Scared of what?"

"Scared of you, scared of the me I was when I was with you. I never doubted that you loved me, it was the severity of love that terrified me. It's funny, for as much as we doubt who we are and have always doubted our self-worth, we never shied away from being loved by each other. Do you remember what I told you at Dorota's wedding? When I told you that I thought I loved you too much?"

Chuck nodded.

"Well I did, love you too much, and loving you that much suffocated me. It wasn't that what happened with Jack and the Empire, Jenny Humphrey or Eva didn't hurt, but in the larger scheme of things, none of them would have ever be a true deterrent—ever stood a real chance of keeping us apart. You've said it before, our pull is undeniable—hopelessly. We have always managed to figure out some way to be together," Blair said. Unconsciously, a sad smile stretched across her face, it both pleased and pained her how they could shut out the entire world when they were together, no matter what had happened. "You loved me too much, too. Every time you did something wrong, you were so quick to believe that you weren't worthy of me, that you didn't deserve me. But you never stopped from letting yourself love me, to continue to try to win me back. You know I'm not perfect, Chuck."

"You've always been perfect to _me_," he whispered.

"But it's so much pressure! To be so perfect to you, to be me at my darkest self, and have you love me unconditionally, and only ask that I love you in return. Maybe you could love the ugly and hateful things I did, but I couldn't allow myself to love those things about you."

"Perhaps it's because they are unlovable—."

"No, Chuck, that's not it at all," she cut in. While Blair had always suspected that he felt that way, hearing him voice those words broke her heart. She quickly continued, "It's just that back then, if I let myself love you as completely as you loved me, I thought that I would be forever inviting the unhealthy cyclical pattern to continue. Everything would always be a test of just how much each of us loved the other—who was willing to go the furthest."

"Blair, I've never _wanted_ or meant to hurt you. With Jack, I honestly thought that we would get through it. I should've talked to you about it first. If the situation had been reversed, I wouldn't have hesitated, not for one second," Chuck pled. His face turned ashen at the realization of his words. He rushed out, "_Not_ that I'm trying to excuse my behavior, I just want you to know that somewhere in my head, I justified that it wasn't anything I was unwilling to do for you.

"I know that, that's why I was ready to forgive you for it. I knew that even though you would be gaining back the Empire, you were the one who was being punished by having to share me, even if it was for just one night. I know you sincerely believed you couldn't ask me to do that for you. And I do forgive you..." she trailed off.

"I don't deserve your forgiveness. I should be punished. It was a living nightmare for me—to have the Empire taken away. If it hadn't been for your faith in me, I would never have bought it in the first place. When Jack stole it from me, it was like he was taunting me, telling me that your faith could disappear, that _you_ could disappear—just as easily," Chuck explained. He stood up from the chair and fell to his knees in front of her, taking her hands into his. "I was in an impossible situation—I had to sacrifice the thing that represented what the hotel meant to me—your love. And you should never have offered yourself to him, for something as worthless as my pride. _You_ are everything to me Blair, and I'm sorry that I put you through this."

She nodded, as the knot buried deep inside her heart started to loosen, and she clutched his hands tightly. After all these years, she had finally gotten the apology that she had craved, that she _deserved_. The pain on his face was confirmation enough that he fully grasped the enormity of what had happened that night. It had cost him _her_, and he had had to live with the consequences.

"When you told me at Dorota's wedding that that was the end—I just fell back into what I thought was safety, numbing everything with drugs, alcohol and sex. And when that haze no longer satisfied me, I grasped for anything. Since the moment you danced for me at Victrola—every woman in my life is a pale imitation of _you_. What I feel for you, is so deeply ingrained into my soul, that whenever you reject me, I try to replicate it. I can't stand the idea of living without you, and no one else can ever measure up. Don't you see, Blair? It's always been you, and only you. I don't want anyone other than you. I'm so blinded by you that I just reach out and cling to whatever replicates any hint of emotion that I shared with you."

"So what was Eva?" Blair forced herself to ask. She pulled her hands from his, and shifted her seat to create some distance between them. He looked at her mournfully, as if the loss of physical contact was a reprimand. Chuck returned to the armchair before she asked him a question that had always bothered her. "Did you love her?"

"Did you love Louis?" He snapped back.

"Yes, he was kind and devoted. He was so open and accommodating," Blair said quietly. "He went out of his way to do everything possible to make me fall in love with him, but I never did. I wanted to, desperately. But I couldn't, you see, I've been in love with the same boy since I turned seventeen—and despite everything, I still am."

She couldn't quite bring herself to look at him, she had finally admitted she loved him, too. Blair needed him to be honest with her—as honest as she was willing to be with him. She felt his gaze on her, but continued to study her nails in fascination. After a few minutes, she cleared her throat—a signal that it was his turn to answer her.

"I loved the _idea_ of Eva," Chuck said truthfully. "I was such an idiot—that day when you came to me at the train station in Paris and told me that I should come back to New York, I heard you, but I didn't _hear_ you. I believed you when you said you didn't love me anymore—you had been the only person to ever love me for me, and hearing the words from your lips, it was like I was lying in the alley, being shot all over again. I brought her back with me because I wanted to demonstrate that I had gotten someone to love me, that I had changed. I just hadn't realized that you were dangling that carrot in front of me—that if I worked hard enough, it was possible for me to maybe earn your love back. Instead, I just had to throw her in your face to show you that I had succeeded, that maybe you would re-open your heart to me one day, when you saw how happy I could make someone. Eva was a sweet girl—and she _did_ save my life. I repaid her by dragging her into this whole mess, using her as a pawn to get to you. She knew that she would never hold a candle to you, could never hope to capture my heart the way you so effortlessly had. That's why she left, because she knew I still loved you."

"Yes, somehow coming after me at Columbia and accusing me of 'stealing your future', screamed that you still loved me," Blair seethed. "I was convinced that she meant more to you."

"How can you even doubt that everything is always about _you_? Her plane hadn't even boarded, and I already came running to you. I asked you if you still loved me, and you made it abundantly clear that you didn't," Chuck said.

"I was lying. You knew," she whispered.

"Did I? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that I wasn't going to leave your penthouse without something—either confirmation that despite everything you still loved me, or any excuse to have a connection to you, even if it was hate."

"I could _never_ hate you, no matter how much I have wanted to," she sighed. "After my first semester at Yale had ended, I wanted you to _fight_ for me. I didn't know how to feel when you actually left me alone, didn't do your usual 'Chuck Bass' thing. I was relieved to see that you had respected me enough to let it be, but resented you for not trying harder. During the whole Bass Industries fiasco and for your birthday that year, that's when I realized how difficult it was for me not to be with you. You were as much a part of me as I was you. But when I didn't hear back from you after I sent the scrapbook, I thought maybe you were the one who needed the space from _me_. But it seemed wrong not to at least send you a birthday gift every year, it mattered, _you_ mattered."

"Obviously, we were like-minded, I sent you birthday presents, as well. It seemed to be the only acceptable form of communication. I was trying so hard to give you what you needed—time and space. But, I didn't want you to think that I had stopped loving you—hence, I signed each note with those three words, eight letters," he justified. The pulsing vein in his throat told her just how upset he still was that Nate and Louis had interfered in their lives.

"And the last one you sent is the second most loveliest birthday gift I have ever received," she said, attempting to soothe him.

"Which is the first?" His eyes jealously flew to hers.

"Someone telling me he had butterflies and buying me a necklace, he had no right buying me, on my 17th birthday," she teased.

The tension that had built in his jaw, relaxed.

"Tell me about Henry," she prodded.

"You know that she and I are just friends, right? That she's like a sister to me?" He asked apprehensively.

"I want to hear it from you," Blair said firmly. "I am _exhausted_ of everyone else meddling in our lives. It doesn't matter what anyone has said to either one of us. It only matters what we say to each other."

"Where do you want me to start? When we met? When we agreed that she pose as my faux 'partner'? What caused me to let her in?" He asked carefully.

"Try the beginning, and include the things that you think are pertinent," she suggested.

Chuck took a deep breath and stood up. He walked from his position at the chair next to her and walked to the wall of windows. She watched him as his face saddened and he leaned his head against the glass. He cleared his throat twice before he started speaking.

"After I lost you, for what I thought was for good this time, it was as if everyone else that held any value, followed soon after. Nate had been absent for so long, that when the Captain moved in with us for a couple of months, it was as if he had disappeared completely. How could I be upset with him wanting to reestablish a relationship with his father when that's the thing I wanted most, after you? You and Serena had started to drift—and I could feel her subconsciously blaming me for it. Then Jenny moved back from Hudson, and the slight inroads that I had made with Eric, evaporated instantly. I don't think I had ever felt so lonely in my entire life."

He paused, and she could sense just how painful it was for him to recall these events. Blair wanted to go and wrap her arms around him, and kiss the memories away and replace them with newer, happier ones. But she needed him to tell her about his life after she had left.

"And so I decided it was time for me to focus on Bass Industries, it was the only thing that wasn't going to abandon me. It might be cold and unloving—but it would be a constant. Lily—Mrs. Humphrey," he swallowed as he failed to keep the bitterness from coming out. "_Mrs. Humphrey_, had done more than she promised when she rescued BI from Jack's clutches after my father died. I felt it was time to relieve her of the burden of running my father's company. So in addition to the courses I was auditing at Columbia, I began taking an active role with the company—started to learn the ropes. I was sitting in board meetings, being briefed on our different holdings and interests, trying to get a grasp of how it all worked.

"When the board realized how seriously I was taking it and that I had curbed my 'bad boy' behavior, Pete Holmberg was surprisingly supportive. He said that actually seeing me devote myself for the past couple of months, he knew what Bart had been thinking when he left me the company," Chuck said proudly. A wistful smile appeared on his face. "It made me even more determined to gain everyone's trust. If I could appease Bart's ghost, than maybe, one day, I would be able to earn the opportunity to win _you_ back.

"And then, just like that," Chuck snapped his fingers. "It all went to shit. Serena had called me to ask me for drinks one night, she had something she needed to tell me. When I showed up, she seemed fidgety and nervous, and apologized for bothering me. I wanted to press, but she seemed so uncomfortable, I thought that maybe it was about _you_, and so I let it drop. The next week, I open the _Wall Street Journal_ at breakfast, and there on the front page is the announcement that our stock was plummeting due to the rumors that _Mrs. Humphrey_ was said to be shopping Bass Industries."

He broke off and walked to the bar at the corner and pulled out two glasses, filling each with sparkling water. Chuck walked over to Blair and set one glass in front of her, before returning to his position by the windows. He drained his glass and held the crystal tumbler in his hand. He distantly heard Blair pick up the glass and take a sip, but he was lost in a swirl of the memories that he had buried deep inside of him. The pain was still fresh and sharp, as though no time had passed at all, and he was discovering, all over again how _that woman_ was selling his father's company.

"Of course, I called Pete, immediately. We spoke at length, and it turned out that the board was suffering from the same shock that I was. He arranged to have the other board members sit down to a meeting with me later that afternoon. After I spoke with my attorney and financial advisor, I went directly to confront _Mrs. Humphrey_, but apparently, I was no longer allowed access to the old Bass penthouse. So, I went to your house, to have it out with Serena—I realized that _that_ was what she had called me about the week before. I was furious. I've never asked or expected anything from her. We've always bailed her out of mess after mess, just because she's _Serena_. But for her not to tell me, especially with our shared daddy issues, it was too much. And then Nate was so busy with the Captain and school, he was worse than I was when the Captain had been arrested for extortion," he chuckled ironically. He remembered how that event coincided with the start of his obsession with Blair. Chuck had not been the most supportive friend—absentee, at best.

"Afterwards I went to the private meeting with the board, and fortunately for me, they were equally dissatisfied with how public things had gotten, as well as _Mrs. Humphrey's_ handling of certain issues. There were other rumors that she was planning on a fire sale, selling Bass Industries, piece by piece to the highest bidder if she couldn't fetch the price she wanted. And while some were very unwilling to trust me, they had agreed that for their own benefit as well as the company, it was better to back _me_ than support her dismantling of BI. So they armed me with everything I needed, and we made our bid at a hostile takeover. It probably helped that I had some very damaging information on Lily that she didn't want made public—her secret son Scott, being hoodwinked by _Dr._ Van der Woodsen, and if necessary the fact that Eric attempted suicide under her care—"

"Chuck!" Blair gasped. "You wouldn't have!"

"_Of course not_. I would never have done that to Eric. But _she_ didn't know that. Fortunately, the rift between Eric and I seemed so large, it would _appear_ as though I might be capable of anything. Plus, she was still functioning on the childish and immature premise that I would take my rage for her out on Eric. It still amazes me how _she's_ supposed to be the adult. Despite everything that Eric and I have been through, I would never hurt him like that," he explained.

He looked over to see a mollified Blair. "With enough button pushing and secret dropping, _Mrs. Humphrey _was going to appear highly unstable, all on her own. She would come off as a childish socialite that managed to marry her way into a power position. Plus, it had not gone unnoticed that she married Rufus less than a year after my father's death, and that he had moved into her home, less than six months after the funeral.

"Ironically, she surrendered the company back to me on my birthday. It was the most elated and devastated I've ever felt in one day. Except for the time I threatened to let her secrets slip, she never tried to speak to me again. She kept insisting that she was just trying to free me from the shadow of my father, that she had my best interests at heart," Chuck said mockingly.

He paused for a moment, trying to suppress the rage he would feel when he thought of his former adoptive stepmother. It shouldn't still hurt him this much. But he knew that _Mrs_. _Humphrey's_ betrayal would always sting as painfully as Elizabeth Fisher's had, if not moreso. Lily had been the only mother he had ever known.

Chuck exhaled a breath he hadn't known he had been holding. He picked up his story again, "So after a very staid round of congratulatory cocktails with the board on becoming the CEO of Bass Industries, I felt utterly restless. Nate had texted me at some point that day, but neither Serena nor Eric reached out. I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for myself, it was _my birthday_, and I was all alone. I wanted so much for you to call, but I didn't expect it. The whole time while I was fighting _Mrs. Humphrey_, all I had wanted was to speak to you, so badly. You are one of the smartest people I know, and I just wanted to bounce ideas off of you—but I thought it was far too soon, even to ask you to be a friend," he said sadly. "You were always my favorite plotting partner."

"You're mine, too."

Chuck grinned at her. Her matching expression told him, that they were both reflecting on their last takedown—the one that had allowed them to get past the hate.

"I couldn't stand being at BI or at The Empire, and strangely, I wanted to go have a celebratory drink somewhere I didn't own, or even hold the lease to. I had Arthur drop me off at Victrola, and then I walked aimlessly around, until I stumbled into a decent, but quiet bar. I made a _complete_ ass of myself, until Henry scolded me. I offered to buy her a drink, but she just tried to get out of talking to me—she was kind of being a bitch, actually. _But_, she was the first person to talk to me in so long that didn't work for or with me, I just wanted _any_ connection to a human being that didn't have to do with me being Chuck Bass.

"But then, she told me her name was _Henry_, and it seemed like the planets had aligned for me to meet her. Her parents died on my birthday in a car accident—just like Bart had died on hers. She _had_ to be my doppelganger, she just _had_ to be. And then it turns out her Uncle Jin had gone out of his way to break her up with her childhood sweetheart—and succeeded. He used her intelligence and beauty to try to broker business deals with men who had sons close to her age. He went so far as to lie to her boyfriend, Hugh, and he chose to believe her uncle. It was so similar, yet different to what happened with Jack. Then she tells me that she's sitting at the bar, feeling sorry for herself, because she's been too afraid to go visit her parents' grave. So I called for the Bass jet, and we flew out a few hours later.

"It was so weird, she paid for _everything_ while we stayed in San Francisco. She insisted if we were going to be friends, we had to be on an equal footing, because she was never going to be able to call the company jet, on a whim. After we got back to New York, we started spending more and more time together—and we both realized that neither of us had anyone else, really. We were both trapped—unable to move on, because we were still desperately in love with someone else. That having experienced that kind of emotional connection to you and to Hugh—it was just not possible for us to move forward. So, it was a mutual agreement—we would be each other's family. I had been dreading the first BI event, and asked her to come with me, and that's when she met Nate. He just assumed she was my date, especially when it was clear that we had gone away together. The rest of the board also assumed the same, and I didn't bother to correct them, it seemed liked it would be a bigger production denying it, than not to say anything.

"But after a few events, Hen seemed to pick up on so many of the business aspects of it—and her memory is ridiculous, so I offered her a job. She didn't want to take it, because she didn't want people to think that she had gotten hired, because she was my best friend. It was a rather rude awakening for her when she found out that everyone thought we were dating. Hen had no idea, you see, because until the fourth or fifth time she accompanied me, no one had even referred to her as my girlfriend—and certainly not in front of her. When she realized that everyone thought we were sleeping together—we agreed a faux dating story might be for the best. It would allow me to wait for you, without people commenting on my personal life. Henry made me promise that neither of us was to ever _lie_ about our relationship, we just weren't going to confirm it. Absolutely _no_ PDA, unless it was something we might do with a sibling or close friend. I can guarantee you, other than what you walked in on in my office, the biggest 'show' of affection has been her holding my hand—it would be the only thing that could calm me down, when I was the most nervous, because it reminded me of you."

"She's beautiful, Chuck," Blair said carefully.

He stared back at her just as carefully, trying to discern if there was even a hint of doubt or insecurity behind it. He was relieved that he could find none.

"Are you serious? Blair, she lounges around in _sweatpants_ at home," he groaned. "She shushes me if I talk to her during a recorded basketball game that she already knows the final score to! And she's a closet Star Wars fan that spent a good portion of her life dating a _gamer_! She might be beautiful, but I assure you, there is no spark between us."

"A gamer?" He watched as she twitched her nose and a look of mild horror crossed her face.

"Yes, apparently her ex wanted to design and currently does design video games," he said wryly. "Nate _hates_ playing Xbox with her, because she always manages to find a way to beat him. She loves playing almost as much as he does."

"I suppose I should've known when she showed up to our dinner date wearing tennis shoes and jeans," Blair mused.

They smiled at each other.

"She's what I always imagined having an annoying older sister would be like," Chuck confessed. "But, there are some differences too, Hen actually has happy memories of her childhood—her parents loved her unconditionally. Then, she met Hugh when she was seven, after she moved in with her uncle and aunt, and they've been in love ever since. She's known love, her entire life. So she's very good at ignoring me, and making me do 'normal' things. The best thing about Hen is that she's an outsider—she didn't grow up with us, didn't know what any of us were like when we were younger. When I confided in her, things were glaringly clear to her, without the established tags of us being _who_ we were. Talking to her made me see things that I hadn't been able to see before. Things that I maybe never wanted to admit."

"Like what?"

He cringed.

"That maybe subconsciously, a part of me, may have been more willing to trade you to Jack, to punish you for encouraging me to let Elizabeth Fisher into my heart," he said honestly. Even as the words formulated, he felt such self-loathing, it were as though he were going to be sick. But after all this time—Blair deserved the truth, even if it painted him in the ugliest light.

It surprised him that there was no shock or hint of surprise on her part. Her words that followed, unnerved him more, "I can't say I blame you for that—it's one of the reasons why I was so willing to forgive you. There's no denying that if I hadn't pushed the issue, it would have taken you much, much longer to consider letting her in, if you let her in, at all."

"It doesn't make it right," he argued. "_You_ aren't responsible for my decisions, _I_ am."

"We were like a time bomb that year, just waiting to be set off. We thought we were so grown up, and that we could handle everything, that nothing could tear us apart, because of everything we had done to each other. But we were wrong, Chuck, it was too much, too soon. We were trying to live our lives as though nothing could touch us—that we were indestructible, but we weren't. We thought that just being together was enough, we let our guards down about _everything_. Once we had exchanged _I love you's_, we just assumed everything would be perfect, that we wouldn't have to fight for anything anymore. There is no other point in our life that what happened with Elizabeth Fisher or the Jack situation would ever have manifested itself. We were so arrogant. And that's why I had to leave, to give us a chance, to hope that we would find our way back to each other."

"Don't say that. Don't make it seem like the only time we were together was a mistake! It's all I have, Blair," Chuck begged. Hearing her write off their time together as arrogance was unbearable.

"It was never a mistake—we just took it for granted," she reasoned. "But when you say things like that, you _must_ understand how much pressure that is—to be _everything_ to you, all the time."

"I'm not going to apologize for loving you the only way I know how," Chuck said defensively.

"I'm not asking you to. I wasn't ready for that, back then. The enormity of what you felt for me—that I had already become a part of you. The same _you_ that would hurt himself, hurt me."

"And I know that there is nothing that can ever undo what I've done. But I want to make it up to you."

"Maybe I don't want you to."

"What are you saying, Blair?" Chuck asked. He was every combination of pained, tortured and uncertain. In that moment he didn't know if he should have any hope left or if this was the end—forever.

"If we're really going to do be together this time, I don't want this hanging over head as a constant reminder of what went wrong. Because while this might be the worst thing that happened between us, it isn't the only thing we've done to hurt each other."

"Blair—"

"I'm ready for it this time, Chuck. I'm ready to be with you, and understand that this is it. To know that part of being with you is having to reassure you that I'm not going anywhere. That we are agreeing to put all of this behind us, because we can't change it—we can only change how we behave from now on," she said seriously. He watched a brilliant smile light up her face as she said, "I have never stopped loving you, and I want to try again."

Relief thrummed through his body, and the elation that pumped through his veins rendered him immobile. Chuck beamed, as he smiled goofily back at her. He felt giddy—this is what he had been waiting for. The happiness that was written on her face made him catch his breath—she was stunning, and she was _his_. He was about to reach for her when he saw the tears of joy gather in the corners of her eyes—and just as quickly as euphoria had come, the guilt flooded. Her tears undid him every time. As his smile faded, he could see the concern enter her eyes.

He stepped back from her. Everything they had discussed overwhelmed him. Blair had spoken the truth, earlier—all of this, it was too much. Who was to say that he wouldn't hurt Blair again? The thought of being the source of her pain was numbing him—he didn't know if he could live with himself if he hurt her again. What if staying away from her for the past five years was the only thing he had ever done right?

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he said quietly.

"What?" Blair asked, stunned. Everything that had happened, everything he had said had led her to believe that this was something _he_ wanted, that they _both_ wanted.

"You said it yourself, we were kids trying to play house," Chuck said slowly.

She watched as any trace of happiness dissolved from his face, moroseness had descended. Inside she was shrieking in her head—not when they had been _thisclose_.

"How do we know that we didn't manufacture those feelings?" He asked suddenly. "Isn't it possible that we built up our emotions to be more than they were? Who doesn't love an epic romance?"

"Chuck—" Blair started.

"I think we hurt each other, and I think that needs to stop," he interrupted. In a tone that reflected every ounce of pain that he was causing her, he continued slowly, "I haven't been happy since you've left, but I haven't hurt anyone either. And the minute you walked back into my life, I have gone out of my way to do so. How can I claim that I love you, when all I ever do is hurt you? You deserve _everything_, and I don't know if you should be saddled with me. In this shell of an existence, that I have lived the past five years—keeping my distance from you, I've been a better person."

"You forget I'm _Blair Waldorf_, I don't need you to save me, I can save myself," she retorted.

"But even you will have to agree, that I'm the only one who can protect _you_ from _me_," he said forlornly.

"So even if it's not what I want?" She pressed.

"It's for the best," he said hoarsely.

"You're hurting me now."

"It's the last time it will happen."

"Do you love me, Chuck?" she asked, her voice began to wobble.

"Yes, and I will never stop loving you," he admitted. "But I love you enough to know that I need to say goodbye."

Blair stared at him, her heart crumbling inside. He looked up to meet her questioning stare, the devastation in his eyes mirroring hers. The half-smile he gave left no room for debate, he was ending this. Slowly, she walked up to him, and cradled his face in her hands. Chuck's arms reached out, and pressed her closely to him. Pulling him down her lips brushed his. As she kissed him for the last time, she tasted his tears mix with hers. He was holding her so tightly, she could barely breathe. With a sob in her throat, she wrenched herself away from him and walked out the door.

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_**tbc**_

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A/N: I don't expect you to agree with everything, but many of these things were way too easily glossed over on the show, and _**I**_ needed some closure on some of these topics. And I perfectly accept if you absolutely hate me right now.

For Noirreigne, who bought what I was selling, or at least convinced me she did (you are buying this, right?).

For my lovely and faithful readers and reviewers, I hope that in some ways, this discussion has been a payoff of sorts. There is definitely SOME angst left, but it is also mixed in with a fair amount of fluff. Thank you for staying with me.

The cone of GG silence is still in effect and being enjoyed!


	13. it takes Nate to tango

**A/N: Goes AU at end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely conversation between Chuck and Blair about "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't end on that bittersweet note? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months.

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Before Nate registered that it was Blair standing outside his door, she had already flung herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. As he instinctively reached up to stroke her hair, he wondered what could possibly have gone wrong this time. According to Serena, Henry had come up with an ironclad plan to force Chuck and Blair to come to terms with everything that had happened around them. Serena seemed absolutely certain that Blair would wind up being the future Mrs. Chuck Bass. But from the sounds of her hiccupping and near hyperventilation, he suspected things had not gone as predicted. Nate didn't know if he had ever seen her so distraught before—it was as if she were literally suffocating in front of him. After what felt like hours, her sobs seemed to have mildly subsided.

"Blair! What's wrong?" Nate crooned softly into her ear. "Tell me what happened."

This set off yet another wave of tears and hysteria. He was beginning to get scared as he maneuvered her out of the entryway and towards the large sectional couch in his living room. When she yanked herself out of his embrace and threw herself onto the settee and continued her wailing, he was officially frightened. He leaned over and said, "I'll be right back. I'm going to make you some tea."

As he walked into the kitchen, he reached for his cell phone, and quickly punched in the all too familiar digits. As the phone rang, he busied himself with putting the kettle on the stove and searched for the fancy tea Blair had sent him from Hong Kong last year. He remembered receiving the package and being completely clueless as to why she would send him something so…girly. When he called to ask her why, she had just snottily informed him that it wouldn't hurt to have something soothing and appropriate on hand when he was entertaining a _proper female_. Who would've guessed that she had essentially sent the tea to him for her future self? As he was about to slam down the phone, he heard a familiar voice drawl, "Nathaniel—to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Despite the fact that Nate knew he should be groveling, seeing Blair in such a state had him ready to rip Chuck a new one. But the unmistakable hollowness in Chuck's tone had Nate changing his tactic. Instead of yelling obscenities, he hissed, "Care to enlighten me on _why_ Blair has been sobbing hysterically in my living room for the past hour? When we last spoke you implied that you would stop bringing chaos into her life."

"I'm trying to!" Chuck said brokenly.

"Her crying uncontrollably is you trying to stop hurting her?" Nate wondered incredulously. "Are you out of your mind? In what universe is that any kind of a rational statement?"

"You were right, all I do is hurt her." The whisper was barely audible. "I let her go, so I could never hurt her again."

"You're a complete idiot, you know that?" And with that, Nate hung up the phone and threw it on the counter.

He was trembling in frustration. More than anything he wanted to go to Chuck's and beat the shit out of him—until he saw reason. But he could only deal with one best friend at a time. Nate prepared the jasmine tea to the exact specifications Blair's handwritten note had detailed. He placed the porcelain teapot on a tray, and rummaged through his cabinet and found some cookies that he laid out on a plate.

When he reentered the living room, Blair was sitting upright. Blotchy-faced, puffy eyes and all, she couldn't help but drop her jaw at the sight in front of her. "When did Nate Archibald become domesticated?"

With a sheepish grin he softly explained, "Can't have my favorite girl pause her crying to tell me I've incorrectly set out a tea tray, now can I?"

"Oh, Nate! Why can't I still be in love with _you_?" Blair cried, as a fresh set of tears poured out of her.

"There, there," Nate soothed. He fixed her a cup of tea and handed it to her. "Because we're not kids anymore, Blair. And somewhere along the line you fell out of love with me, and in love with that moron I'm still calling my best friend. Besides, you find me exhausting."

His words squeezed a fond smile out of Blair as she started to sip her tea. "True. Who would have thought I'd have the fortitude to send you tea for my own use? This is so delicious!"

"I even prepared it step-by-step with your attached instructions," he gently teased. "Now, are we done avoiding the subject, or are you going to tell me what happened?"

Her expression froze as Nate watched the pain cross her face, as though she was reliving her worst nightmare over and over again. But suddenly she shook herself and in a shaky voice she spoke, "He said that he was a better person without me. That since I've been gone, he hasn't hurt anyone."

"Those were his _exact_ words, that he was a better person _without_ you?" he demanded, awestruck.

"Huh?" Blair looked up, confused.

"Did he actually say the words 'I'm a better person without you'?" Nate clarified, impatiently.

Blair thought carefully, "No, but I'm sure that's what he meant. He said he was a better person, that even if he hasn't been happy since I've left, he hasn't hurt anyone, either."

"Idiots, the pair of them. They're a matched set," he mumbled to himself as he shook his head.

"Excuse me?" Blair's indignant voice interrupted Nate from his thoughts. "_Nathaniel Fitzwilliam Archibald_, did you just call me an idiot?"

Nate looked over at Blair's distraught face. "_**Yes**_!"

The shock on Blair's face was priceless, but he was exhausted from this rigmarole that had started their junior year in high school. Chuck and Blair's little dance had been going on for over seven years, and he just didn't understand how everyone could see it but them.

"Do you remember the night of Tripp and Maureen's rehearsal dinner?" Nate asked abruptly.

"What are you talking about?" Blair snapped. She was still smarting from Nate yelling at her and calling her an idiot.

"DO-YOU-REMEMBER-THE-NIGHT-OF-TRIPP-AND-MAUREEN'S-REHEARSAL-DINNER?" he repeated slowly, as though she were a child who had to be spoken down to.

"What does that night have to do with anything? And don't talk to me that way Nate!" she shot back.

"Just answer the damn question, Blair! Do you remember it or not?" he asked again, refusing to back down.

"Yes!" Blair took a deep breath, as she slowly started to remember that particular evening. In a sad quiet voice, she recited the events of that night. "That was when you found out that your grandfather had been responsible for your dad going to prison. You were mad at me because I had agreed to convince you to go to Yale in order to be a bridesmaid and get the spot on the Whitney committee. But once you explained what happened, I changed my mind, I had decided that you were more important than my misguided society ambitions."

Nate's expression softened, "I know that now, Blair. I'm not trying to blame you for anything here. But you remember how upset I was, right? How I said some hurtful things to you?"

Blair nodded. "But you came back, Nate, and you forgave me. You knew I was just so scared about not having what I had planned out happen. You gave me another chance."

"Yes, but I never told you _why_, did I?"

"No…" her voice tailed off. "It wasn't you just being nice?"

"Sorry, but no."

"Oh, I see."

"After I left, I went to Chuck's," he announced. Her eyes widened in shock. "Over a glass of scotch, I told him what you had done, and I asked him if I was stupid for thinking you had changed. Do you know what he said?"

She didn't know if she wanted to hear the answer. There were so many moments between Nate and Chuck that she had never felt privy to. Blair had been the girl from high school who had gone back and forth between the two friends, just as Nate had done with her and Serena. But she knew that Nate wasn't rehashing the buried past, just to torture her, there had to be a point. "Tell me, Nate."

"He said that it was stupid for me to want you to be anything other than you were. And that you just needed someone to believe in you."

"He did?" Blair asked in awe. Tears were threatening to surface again. It still took her breath away, the depth of Chuck's love at various times in their lives. She had remembered him telling her once, during that only summer they had been together, how he had tried to do everything to make her happy—even if it meant it was without him. That sometimes Chuck thought he had never loved her more than during that time, when she was breaking his heart all over again by getting back together with Nate. The jealousy that had consumed him—that she found Nate to be that comforting, favorite old sweater, something Chuck never knew if she would ever feel about him.

"You're falling in love with him, all over again, aren't you?" Nate interrupted with bemused grin.

She hadn't realized that she was smiling.

"So now it's his turn. Chuck's scared of hurting you again, and it is stupid for you to want him to be anything other than who he is. Now he just needs you to believe in him," Nate paraphrased.

When she threw her arms around him this time, it was gratefully and a silent thank you.

He pulled back slightly so his eyes could meet hers. "I can't believe I'm gong to say this, but, you guys tried this the very mature and adult way. You've tried it the _normal_ way. I'm sorry, but neither you nor Chuck is normal. So do this the _Chuck and Blair_ way. Come up with Plan A, B and C, up to Z, if you have to, and don't give up until you get your way, ok?"

She flashed her signature Blair Waldorf smile at him. Nate was right—she wasn't being herself—she hadn't been in a very long time. She wasn't ordinary, she was extraordinary. Blair wasn't going to let Chuck let her go without a fight, and if she went down, then he would go down with her.

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_Beep._

"Dude! This is the fifth time I've called in the last hour, when are you going to pick up your phone? I know you're still mad at me right now, but there's no need to be an ass about it. Your birthday's on Monday—let's do dinner—you, me, Serena and Blair. I'll even invite Henry if you want me to."

_Beep_.

"Don't think I didn't see you sneak out the back entrance at Bass Industries, just now. You're lucky that I had a cup of coffee in my hand, or I would've been able to run and jump in front of the limo. Arthur would've stopped, he loves me. Stop hiding, man."

_Beep._

"Look, either pick up the phone and call me back or I'll have to call for reinforcements. I'm just asking for you to come out to dinner, not have a civil ceremony."

_Beep_.

"Grow the fuck up! Pick up your phone."

_Beep._

"Chuck? It's Serena. I thought you were supposed to call me. If you're not going to call Nate back, could you please call _me_ back?" There was a slight hesitation. "Blair and I would really love nothing more than for the four of us to celebrate your birthday together this year. Come on—non-judging breakfast club and all. Please, think about it."

_Beep._

"What if I bring you some joints…with kief? It'll be like old times! We can get baked before dinner!"

_Beep._

"I don't know if you know this, but this would be my attempt at trying to be a good friend! Can't very well be making it up to you, if you're not making yourself available. C'mon, Chuck! Just call me back!"

_Beep._

"Nathaniel, your loquacious messages are irritating, at best. If I agree to dinner, I have your word, the calls will stop?"

_Beep._

"7pm at Butter. No more calls, pinky swear, man!"

_Beep._

"Seriously? Pinky swear? Just stop calling. Fuck Butter! We spent enough time there during high school. Pick somewhere else, and not Per Se—tell Serena it's _my_ birthday, not hers."

_Beep._

"How can I stop calling if you keep calling me back? Are you ok with The Lion, then?"

_Beep._

"The Lion?" There was a long pause followed by the clearing of a throat. "Only if Blair doesn't mind."

_Beep._

"Blair approved—it made her nostalgic. I didn't know you guys had been there together before. Are you ok, man? Do you need a hug?"

_Beep._

"I'll take that as a hint. And _yes_, that means I'll stop calling. See you Monday at 7pm."

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According to Nate, it had been far from easy, but after some intense cajoling, dogged determination and his ability to irritate, Chuck had finally agreed to celebrate his birthday with dinner with the four of them. Blair still felt a slight tinge of guilt at the thought that Henry was alone in San Francisco today. They had spoken just before she left her house for dinner—and for the first time since Blair had met her, Henry had seemed extremely distracted, a touch paranoid, even. Henry thanked her for worrying about her, but said she was glad that Chuck was doing something less morbid for his birthday than going to a cemetery. She wished Blair good luck, and confided that Chuck was nervous about seeing her and that he hoped she knew his intent was just to protect her. Henry's tone conveyed the eye-rolling, Blair could visualize her doing. Just as she had been about to inquire about her trip, Henry abruptly ended the call saying that she was about to enter a dead zone, and promptly hung up.

Blair stared at her phone quizzically. Something was terribly off—but she didn't know Henry well enough to hazard a guess. Maybe it was just how jumpy she sounded, but Blair made a mental note to discuss it with Chuck at some point. She actually wished that Henry was going to be joining them for dinner. Before she could put more thought into it, her doorman buzzed, informing her that the car service had arrived.

She looked out the window, her eyes unfocused. She wondered if Chuck was going to be upset that both Serena and Nate were going to conveniently be about an hour late to dinner. They had volunteered to leave early, as an alternative—but Blair knew that with the lack of thespian abilities the golden duo possessed, Chuck would figure it out, and find a way to keep from being alone with her. Now that she understood what motivated him—his absurd notion that he had to protect her from himself—she knew he'd be a slippery Bass to catch. Fortunately for her, she was more than up for the challenge.

The doorman held the door open while Blair took a deep breath before stepping down and into The Lion. There was a host stand to her left and a small bar to her right. The clock read a quarter to seven.

Blair approached the host, "Bass, party of four."

"Miss Waldorf?"

She nodded, as her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Mr. Bass is at the bar. When the rest of your party arrives, we'll come find you." The host smiled politely, but his eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Actually, I'm afraid the other two members of our party—" she started.

"Mr. Archibald took care of everything," he reassured her with a wink. "We wouldn't want Mr. Bass to catch on, would we? Could I take your coat?"

Blair dipped her head in agreement, and placed her purse on the stand. The host came around from his station and graciously helped her off with her coat. She wore a simple, strapless, eggplant-colored dress. It was snuggly-fitted without being indecent and fell just above her knees. Her hair was pulled loosely away from her face, while her chocolate curls tumbled around her shoulders.

It wasn't how incredibly elegant and sexy she looked—it was the vintage Harry Winston "Holly Wreath" choker he had bought for her, adorning her neck, that had Chuck speechless. When Blair's eyes met his, she offered a smile of chagrin as she walked over. He couldn't stop himself from soaking her look in head-to-toe, she looked absolutely delicious—he was uncertain how he was going to get through dinner in one piece.

He stood up when she reached him, and before he could open his mouth in greeting, her arms twined around his neck as she pressed against him in a warm hug.

"Happy birthday, Chuck," she whispered in his ear.

His hands settled to her waist, and he stopped himself from pulling her any closer. The feel of her body brushing against his and her warm breath dancing on his ear was leading him into dangerous territory. Chuck managed a gravelly _thank you_, as she kissed him on the cheek before pulling away.

"This is the first time we're celebrating your birthday together," she said softly.

"It is," he confirmed. "And I'm spending it with the most beautiful girl in the world."

"You're just saying that because your bow tie matches my dress," she teased.

Before he could censor his words, the truth stumbled out, "I'm saying it, because I've never seen anyone as beautiful in my life."

His cheeks flushed for a moment, as he watched Blair's lashes flutter and her shy smile spread across her face. Her pleasure at his words did not go unnoticed. Nervously, he glanced around the room. Nate and Serena had better arrive soon, he thought.

"Martini?" He asked.

She cocked her head to the side for a moment, and then shook her head. Chuck's eyes were devouring every gesture and movement she made—he wasn't sure when he'd see her next, and he needed more memories to add to his mental vault.

"I'll just have whatever it is you're having."

"In the mood for Talisker?" He questioned, nodding towards his half filled glass tumbler. Blair was always moody about her single malts.

She bit her lower lip. His eyes were transfixed by her mouth. Chuck watched in rapt fascination as her tongue as she slowly licked her lip. "Do they have the 30 year? Or just the 10?"

"Yes," he said without hearing her question. He continued staring as her mouth kept forming words that made no discernible sounds. He didn't think he had ever wanted to kiss her so badly in his entire life.

It wasn't until she waved a hand in front of his face, that he shook the glaze out of his eyes. Her tinkling laughter warmed his heart, and suddenly, he didn't care that she had caught him not paying attention.

"Penny for your thoughts, billionaire?"

"Sorry. I was just…" he trailed off. His eyes, again, lingered at her mouth. "Pleasantly distracted."

Blair smirked. "Well, I would hope so."

_Was she flirting with him?_

"I think I'll just have some champagne. I feel like celebrating tonight," she said mysteriously.

"What are we celebrating?"

"_Us_," she said nonchalantly as she waived down the bartender and ordered her favorite vintage of champagne.

Blair must have felt his shock. She rolled her eyes before clarifying, "Spending your birthday together."

Before he could stop himself from sputtering, the bartender was back, pouring a glass of the 1995 Dom Perignon for her. She gave a glittering smile of thanks before turning back to him, with her glass raised.

Chuck lifted his scotch to clink with her flute.

"To birthdays and old friends," she said sincerely. "May we never be out of each other's lives."

"Cheers," he said softly. The burning sensation of the scotch spilling down his throat was a welcome relief. He was so nervous and antsy—perhaps agreeing to dinner was not such a good idea. But even as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was more than thrilled to be sitting anywhere next to Blair. Deep down inside, Chuck knew that this was the only place in the world he ever wanted to be.

There was a calm radiating from Blair that he hadn't expected, he noted as he continued to collect more mental images. If anything, she was practically glowing. Perhaps she finally felt free of him—free of the burden it had been to belong to him. Why it upset him that she seemed so happy was ridiculous—this was what he wanted. He wanted for her to always be this happy and carefree. Chuck knew he was simply mourning the fact that he had been right to let her go—it had only been one week and she seemed like her old self. Finally he shook his head of these thoughts, _it was his birthday_, and he was still able to celebrate it with her—it had to be enough.

Blair slowly sipped her champagne as Chuck broodingly stared at his scotch. She could hazard a small guess as to his train of thoughts, but she didn't allow herself to join him there. All she needed was an hour to charm him before she turned his world upside down. It might be a tad naughty of her, but she loved the idea of watching him squirm for their entire meal, knowing that if he got up and left his own birthday dinner, he would be conceding—sort of.

The helpful host approached them before she could continue her subtle tormenting of Chuck. As they were being led to their table, Blair was still relishing in satisfaction that he had been unable to tear his eyes from her lips. She had forgotten what an aphrodisiac being _that_ desired by Chuck Bass felt like. From the moment she had seen him, she felt a lightness that was comfortably unfamiliar. Despite not having been pleased with the end results of their lengthy talk last week—she no longer felt the pangs of sadness and anger that would somehow briefly bubble to the surface. This must be what it felt like to be starting over—really burying the past.

They stopped at a larger table that was set for two. They looked at one another questioningly as they slid into the booth. Before they could ask the inquiry at the tip of their tongues, the host smoothly intervened.

"Mr. Archibald called, he and Miss van der Woodsen are caught in traffic. He insists you start without them, and they will be here as quickly as possible."

Her genuine surprise that the table was set for two, Blair knew, was what saved her from any suspicion. Chuck was far too good at reading her nuanced expressions—and she silently thanked Nate for having the insight to plan ahead. Blair reached for her menu after shrugging at Chuck's slightly suspicious eyes.

A moment later, John Delucie came to the table.

"Chuck! Happy birthday! When Nate called to ask me to personally see to your birthday dinner, I was honored. You didn't tell me it was your birthday!"

"John," Chuck greeted him as he reached out and shook the owner's hand. "I'm normally not in town for my birthday."

"Well, when your birthday date is the beautiful Miss Waldorf, I can understand why a change of plans are in order," John laughed. Turning to Blair he teased, "Miss Waldorf, I'm disappointed to see that you're wearing a dress. I would have gladly made an exception if you wanted to wear a negligee."

Blair's cheeks turned bright red, as she remembered how she had slipped off her dress the moment he had arrived with the dozen lobster pot pies for the board members of Girls, Inc.

John scooped their menus off the table. "Nate pre-ordered dinner. Let me know if there's anything else you two need. Happy birthday, Chuck. Miss Waldorf, it's wonderful to see you again."

He lifted Blair's hand and kissed it, before he shot a parting wink at Chuck.

"So, he's seen you in your negligee?" Chuck asked curiously.

"I may have removed my dress in front of him, before I went to go find you at the Saints and Sinners ball. I didn't have time to change," she said ruefully. "I still haven't tried the lobster pot pie, I hope Nate ordered it."

She flashed Chuck a smile, and was relieved when he smiled back.

The companionable silence that had descended upon them was interrupted by the buzzing of both of their cell phones.

"I'm sure it's Nate," Chuck said, as he pulled out his phone.

"And I'm sure it's Serena," Blair agreed, as she fished for her phone in her purse.

_Sorry, B! Nate thought we should sit this one out. Make the most of your time, and wish Chuck a happy birthday for me. —S_

Blair had to give them credit, at least they waited until the food had already been ordered before they sprung the news. Especially with John having been out to their table, it would be terribly rude for Chuck to walk out now.

He looked down at his phone. Was it wrong to want to hug Nate?

_Happy Birthday! The gift you want most, but won't ask for? Dinner with Blair. I figured maybe I should help, instead of harm. But scout's honor, this is my last bid at 'scheming'. Drinks tomorrow? —N_

Suppressing the jubilant emotions at the idea of spending the entire evening alone with Blair, Chuck forced himself to at least offer her an out. "I know this isn't what was planned. But Nate seems hell-bent on playing matchmaker. I understand if you want to leave—"

"Don't be silly! We've _always_ been friends," she insisted, as she shook her head for emphasis.

He exhaled a large sigh of relief.

"Chuck Bass! What is wrong with you?" Blair asked. He could hear the exasperation in her voice. "Did you really think I would have come to dinner, if I didn't want to? You're supposed to get _smarter_ with age. Now, tell me all the details about learning the ropes at Bass Industries…"

Somehow, they managed to have a thoroughly enjoyable dinner. They traded anecdotes over the years—from Chuck telling horror stories about his early mistakes at the helm, to Blair telling him the strangeness of residing in the same country with her four parental figures. The lobster pot pie had been just as exquisite as it had been reviewed, all those years ago. Blair had loudly sung happy birthday to him when the molten lava cake with a sparkler had been brought to their table. Now, they were just lingering over coffee.

"Oh! Before I forget, I got you a present."

"Blair, you didn't have to—"

"With our luck, hand-delivery is best, no?" She asked with a wry smile.

He chuckled nervously. He didn't know if he was ready to make light of their past, it was still all too much. Chuck watched as she opened her purse and pulled out a velvet box, the size of a deck of cards, and slid it across the table to him.

"Happy birthday, again. I would have had it wrapped, but the jeweler took longer than I thought to finish the engraving," Blair said apologetically. "They messed up the first two pairs."

His heart skipped a beat. Engraving? Jeweler? He eyed the box curiously.

"It's not going to bite, Chuck," she laughed. "Open it!"

He flashed a sheepish grin before he reached for the case.

"Do you like it?" Blair asked. Her eyes betrayed no uncertainty.

Chuck nodded as he gazed at the very simple, but well-made onyx cuff links. His eyes furrowed—nowhere did they appear to have any kind of etching.

"It's underneath," she prodded. "You have to take them out of the case and look _underneath_."

He carefully pulled one of the links out of the box, and flipped it over. He pushed his chair back as it fell out of his hands and onto the table. Chuck looked up and met Blair's eyes.

"I figured this was better than a heart pin," she explained.

"I can't accept this," he said hoarsely.

"It's a gift, one I'm giving of my own free will."

He looked at her. Blair looked completely self-assured. There was no nervousness or even an edge to her. She was completely relaxed, as if it were every day she gave away gifts of this magnitude. His heart started beating even faster. His hands itched to touch the cuff link again—it was unmistakable what Blair had meant. No one could misinterpret the heart-shaped engraving that encircled the initials _BW_.

"Whenever you wear them and you feel any doubt, you can just look down at your cuffs and you'll know you're wearing my heart on your sleeve."

Chuck stood up abruptly, before she could read the longing on his face. This gift was equally as meaningful to him as the scrapbook had been, but he wouldn't be able to keep it.

"Excuse me." He said, as he quickly walked towards the restrooms near the front of the restaurant. He couldn't hear himself think with how loudly his heart was pounding. Chuck knew if he stayed, he would undo everything. Blair was his kryptonite. He had made his decision—to protect her at the cost of his happiness. Chuck needed to find a waiter, and send him to tell Blair he had left. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, that he missed the telltale sound of her heels approaching him as he paced in the small alcove.

Blair took a quick glance around, and gave a silent prayer for thanks that no would be able to see them. She placed her hand on his shoulder and spun him around. Chuck looked so conflicted—she could see his worry as much as she could feel his hope. Pressing him against the wall, she grabbed one wrist and started to remove the cuff link presently on his shirt as she replaced it with one of hers.

"Blair, please—" he begged.

She ignored him as she focused on replacing the second one. She slipped his old pair into his jacket pocket. "There, all better."

"I really shouldn't accept these—"

She cut him off with a kiss. Her hands reached up and cupped his face as she dove in and plundered his mouth with her tongue. As his mouth molded to hers, and their tongues were in rhythm, a sigh of relief escaped her. His hands caressed her back and he drew her closer to him. He was unable to make himself indifferent to her, she thought victoriously.

Before she could fully lose herself in him, Blair pulled back and looked him squarely in the eye. "Listen up, lover, and listen good. Thanks, but no thanks. Just because you've decided to let me go, doesn't mean that I'm going to let you."

"Please, Blair—"

She kicked him in the shin and he yelped. She arched a brow. "I'd prefer not to be interrupted."

Chuck winced, but nodded in agreement.

"While you think you're doing the right thing, and protecting me from yourself, I think you're being Bassinine. However, you love me and I love you. So, I'm giving you fair notice, _game on_. Since it's your birthday, I'll let tonight be a reprieve. But come tomorrow, look out—wherever you go, whatever you do—I am going to hunt you down, and I _will_ have you."

Their eyes locked, as she let him read the steely determination behind her words.

"I just want to do right by you. You deserve _everything_," he implored.

"And I've decided _everything_ is _you_."

The brief flash of happiness in his eyes did not escape her notice. When the happiness was replaced with guilt, she sighed and stepped back. Of course the Basshole wasn't going to make it easy on her—it had never been easy for them, why should it start now? She ran a finger across his cheek. "Run along, Chuck. You'll need your rest. Tomorrow is the start of our game, and you know how much I hate to lose."

She closed her eyes as she leaned against the wall. When she felt him embrace her again, her eyes flew open.

"Despite everything, thank you," he whispered into her ear. "I couldn't have asked for a more perfect birthday."

And just as quickly as he had hugged her, Chuck pulled away and walked out the restaurant doors. A bittersweet smile crossed her face, maybe it _wasn't_ going to be as difficult as she thought. She walked back to their table to fetch her purse. She signaled to the waiter to send her bill to the bar, perhaps she would have that martini, now.

She took a large sip of her drink as her mind filtered through various plans she had set for the next few days, when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Hello, beautiful."

Blair swiveled in her bar stool to look into the familiar face that matched that distinctive voice.

"Carter," she observed. "What are you doing here?"

He slid into the stool next to her, and put his hand on her knee. With a smirk, he replied, "Buying you a drink."

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_**tbc

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**_

A/N: I know, yet _another_ curveball. But fair warning—the old Blair Waldorf, she's back!

For Noirreigne, my beta who rolls with my punches. Thank you for indulging my obsessiveness with this story. _You_ never fail to amaze me.

For my readers and reviewers, I apologize if the transition of Chuck's attitude at the end of the last chapter was a bit abrupt—it wasn't meant to be, as much as I think it ended up coming out. Chuck and Blair will be locked in a battle of sorts—next chapter, I hope, you will find entertaining—it may or may not have angst, I'm weighting my options. Contrary to my prior assumption that the chapters were going to get shorter, I no longer know. They just kinda take a life of their own.

Thank you for continuing to read and review! I value the time and energy you give, it does not go unnoticed or unappreciated.


	14. hooking the bait

**A/N: Goes AU at end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely conversation between Chuck and Blair about "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't end on that bittersweet note? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months.**

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"Ouch!" Carter barked. "Dammit, Blair, was that really necessary?"

"Your potentially contaminated hand has been creeping further and further up my leg. I asked you to refrain from touching me, _twice_," she scoffed, rolling her eyes as he rubbed his shin. Blair had forgotten how fun it was exercising her foot. "It seems that every male bearing the initials CB, deserves a swift kick tonight."

"Yes, let's talk about our good friend, Chuck," Carter said snidely. "I see after all these years, you're still chasing after him. Don't you think it's time to call it quits?"

"It hardly qualifies as chasing if you've already been caught—and believe me, the Bass is already in the net. He doesn't even want to escape, he's just flapping for show," Blair clarified. "I don't have to explain myself to you—someone who doesn't understand the meaning of the word 'love'."

When she hadn't heard a response in over a minute, she turned her head to see if he had left. She was greeted with the image of a solemn-looking Carter staring at his hands.

"Cat got your tongue?" Blair asked bitchily. "I know your M.O., you swoop into town, wreak havoc on as many people as possible, before you slink away back to the hole you crawled out of. Grow up, Carter. Now are we done here?"

"I'm actually here to ask you a favor," Carter said uncomfortably. "I came to see if you could put in a word for Serena—ask her to return my calls."

"You have got to be kidding me! Why would I want to help you?" She asked, astonished.

"Because I haven't stopped loving her," he admitted. "I keep trying to convince myself that I don't love her—I keep running away, thinking I can escape her. There's always been something standing in our way, whether it's Nate or Dan or her father or my past. I just want a chance, Blair. I know you once supported her decision to be with me."

"You're serious?"

"Yes."

"And you thought the best way to ask _me_ for a favor would be by insulting me? Mocking my relationship with the man I'm going to marry?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but it did look like he practically ran out of here," Carter said. As she narrowed her eyes, he threw up his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying that I don't see a ring on your finger and he is nowhere to be found. Instead, you're sitting at a bar, _alone_, drinking. What else am I supposed to think?"

Blair couldn't help but smile. "Look, Carter, you couldn't even begin to comprehend the complexities of my relationship with Chuck. He and I are about to start a new game, and when I win, _which I will_, I'll have my ring then."

"Game?"

"Yes, a game. A competitive activity involving skill, chance or endurance on the part of two or more persons who play according to a set of rules, usually for their own amusement.* You are familiar with the concept? Try looking at a dictionary every once in awhile—you'll find them sitting in the reference section at the library," Blair condescended.

"I see you've grown more pleasant with age," Carter said wryly. "Perhaps we could barter?"

"I highly doubt you have _anything_ I want or need. Besides, Serena is my best friend—she's better off without you."

"Are you certain of that? Is it her resume of successful relationships that's convincing you? I only left her because she couldn't bear to look at me. I confessed my transgressions. I manned up, and all she wanted to do was bail me out. I was just trying to do right by her," Carter explained.

_I just want to do right by you_. Damn, that mother Chucker! Blair huffed in annoyance, why did they have to be so similar?

"_If_, and I only mean _if_, I was willing to help you—"

"Please, Blair, I'll do anything," he interrupted.

With a sigh, she exercised her foot for the third time that night.

"Fuck!" He hissed. "What was that for?"

"I don't like to be interrupted," she said pointedly. "I haven't agreed to anything yet. If I do recall, the last time you were in town, you put a particularly large wedge between her and my other best friend. You remember him, don't you? _Nate_?"

"I can't change anything I've done, Blair. The past is in the past. I'm not asking you to convince her to want to be with me. I just want a chance to talk to her. It's _always_ been her."

_Why_ on God's green earth did Carter have to be Serena's Chuck? Even their logic was the same. It was rather unfortunate they couldn't see finding themselves to be friends. She sighed again. If she were completely honest, she knew that the ship between Serena and Nate had sailed—for both of them. Blair could only offer a prayer in thanks that Humphrey was married and completely out of Serena's life, except for the occasional family function. She knew that S had been floating around aimlessly, and if Blair recalled correctly, she had been insanely happy when she dated Carter for that brief period of time.

"I'll see what I can do," Blair offered. "I make no promises. But I will be sure to pass on the highlights of your impassioned speech. Give me a couple of days."

"So, what would you like in return? To see me tarred and feathered?" He joked.

"It's ok, Carter. I can't believe I'm saying this, but this one's on the house."

"Wait—what?"

"I'm feeling generous," she said as she glared at him. "Please don't make me regret this."

"No, I want to do something for you. What you're willing to do—it means everything to me."

"You just confirmed that I'm making the right choice." She patted Carter on the arm and smiled sweetly. "I know you love her, that's good enough for me. Now, whether or not she wants you, that's a whole other story."

"You mentioned a game—with Bass?" He continued to press. "Is there _anything_ I can do to help? I'm willing to be a pawn, if necessary. I want to have earned your favor, Blair. I know I don't deserve another chance with her. You have to let me do something."

Suddenly, a wicked smile crossed Blair's face. "You're serious?"

"Absolutely," he pledged. "Besides, I don't want to be indebted to a Waldorf—or should I say, future Bass?"

"You'll follow my rules to a tee?"

He nodded.

"Well, actually, now that you mention it…I suppose there _is_ something you could do for me. Now, I am warning you—you may end up getting punched."

Carter sighed.

"More than once," she stressed.

A look of understanding crossed his face. "I would be delighted to help you get under Bass' skin. Count me in."

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Chuck was starting to feel more than slightly paranoid. When he woke up the morning after his birthday, he had one text message from Blair.

_Ready, Set…GO! You can run, but you can't hide. _

_XOXO, _

_B_

He lay back in his bed for about two minutes, and seriously contemplated her words. There were only two possible explanations for her behavior. One—she had designed an elaborate rouse to torture him and bring him to his knees, only to set him free the minute he caved in, _not_ that he was planning on capitulating. Or two—she had meant every word she said last night.

While he preferred to believe that Blair, when pushed, _could_ be that diabolical—he knew in his heart, that she had spoken the truth. She would _never_ give him a tangible representation of her heart, if it were just a game. But he wasn't actually sure if she was being literal when she had said _wherever you go, whatever you do_. He was certain she had just been toying with him.

Two days later, however, Chuck was trying to convince himself that he was just hallucinating. _Everywhere_ he went, he would spot a brunette, similar in size and shape, wearing a headband or article of clothing or an entire outfit that eerily resembled Blair's wardrobe. When he had walked out of his apartment on DDay, doomsday, he'd like to refer to the commencing of Blair's game, there she stood—standing next to his limo. Or so he had thought. He had been about three steps away, when the woman turned to look at him—she had _not_ been Blair. She just happened to have similar chocolate curls and wore a green coat that eerily resembled the one Blair had worn the day he first told her he loved her. The stranger smiled at him before walking off. It had been like that for two full days. It was as though he were surrounded by her doppelgangers.

Suffice to say, he had not actually seen or heard from Blair—save for that first text. Chuck had counted himself lucky that he hadn't seen a Blairclone today—yet. He glanced at the clock on his office wall. _6:45 pm_. Nate should be arriving shortly, for their postponed belated birthday drinks. Chuck found himself wanting to stay indoors.

_Bzzzz_.

_You're looking rather peckish. Have you been getting any rest? Miss me, yet? XOXO, B. _

Chuck stood up, and quickly turned around. He went to the window, trying to determine if she was watching him from somewhere—despite knowing he would not be able to actually see her.

"Chuck?"

He jumped.

Nate started laughing. "Did I scare you, man?"

He scowled at him. "How long have you been standing there?"

"I just got here."

Chuck narrowed his eyes at his alleged best friend. "Give me your phone, right now!"

"What?" Nate sputtered.

"Your phone, hand it to me," Chuck demanded.

Nate rolled his eyes, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed it in Chuck's outstretched hand.

He watched carefully as his phone was undergoing a strip search of sorts. What was Chuck looking for? When Nate saw his phone fly across the room and bounce off the wall, he started grumbling. "You know, if you're still _mad_ at me, we could have forgone drinks. Was it really necessary for you to confiscate my phone and then throw it against your wall? What's wrong with you?"

Chuck sighed. "It's Blair!"

"So, what else is new?" Nate walked over to pick up his phone, relieved that it appeared to still be in working order.

"I feel _hunted_. Everywhere I go, there's a girl who looks like her, nearby. I keep thinking it's Blair, until the girl turns around, and she's clearly _not_ her. Then I realize she's obviously not her—either she's walking differently, her posture is off, her legs are too short—"

"Maybe it's your conscience telling you something," Nate suggested unhelpfully. "Maybe someone needs to crawl on his hands and knees and tell Blair what an utter and absolute idiot he's been and beg her to take him back."

"You do realize that you're still _not_ forgiven?" Chuck growled. "You're on probation."

"Who are you King C?" He teased. "But, I got you the best birthday present, _ever_. Doesn't that count for something? Should I show you the text that said, and I quote, 'I think I want to hug you'?"

"Fuck off."

"Shall we get going? You can give me all the details of how Blair is managing to make you feel hunted when she and Serena left for the Hamptons yesterday."

"_She what?_"

Nate shrugged. "I think Cece asked Serena to check on the house—something about a burglary. She asked Blair to keep her company."

"So she's not even in the city?" Chuck asked.

"Nope. I think she gets back tomorrow," Nate offered. He watched as his friend's face contorted with confusion. "You ok, man?"

"Yeah, yeah, just in my own head," Chuck mumbled, before flashing an apologetic smile. "Let me just grab my things."

"No problem," Nate answered. As Chuck was busy packing his briefcase, he aimlessly walked around the room. The moment Chuck's back was turned, Nate swapped his phone with the replica one that had been hidden in his pant pocket. He quickly texted Blair. _He jumped when I walked in. Should I be scared at how good you are at this?_

It really was uncanny how well Blair knew Chuck. Nate had thought she was being paranoid when she handed him an identical phone to the one he had, but she had rolled her eyes and told him to only use the new one when contacting her, before hopping in the car with Serena. He looked up and saw Chuck gathering his papers, and felt a twinge of guilt. It lasted for only a brief moment, because if there was one thing he knew, he did _not_ want to be on Blair's bad side.

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Blair chortled with glee as she read Nate's text message. She was so busy tapping back a reply that she missed Serena's disapproving frown.

"B—" she spoke hesitantly.

"Yeah, S?" Blair responded without looking up.

"Is this really the best way to go about this?"

"Go about what?" Blair answered automatically. She smiled as she pushed 'SEND'. Finally she glanced up to a worried and slightly perplexed Serena.

"This _game_," she emphasized. "With _Chuck_."

"It's not the best way, it's the _only_ way." Blair bit back a sharp retort. Seriously, Serena was going to question _her_ about handling Chuck?

"Don't you think maybe you should give it a little time? Maybe Chuck will change his mind, realize that he made a mistake?"

"So you think I should just sit and wait for him?" Blair asked, irritably.

"Not sit and wait, per se, but…" Serena trailed off.

"_But what_?"

"I dunno, maybe, act like the grown up you're supposed to be?"

"Grown up?" Blair repeated icily. "And that would mean what? Ignoring the situation and hoping that one day _he_ will decide to bring up the topic. No offense, Serena, but I'm not you."

In a strained voice, Serena said, "I've already apologized to Chuck about that. I get it—I'm a horrible friend and sister. But I'm not going to just stand here and watch you get hurt again."

Blair bit her tongue—hard, to prevent herself from strangling her best friend. Wincing slightly, she took a deep breath before asking, "Do you think Chuck loves me?"

"You _know_ he does."

"And do you think he's going to stop any time in the near or distant future?"

"Probably, never, B," Serena said softly.

"And based on his faulty logic that all he has ever done is hurt me, when do you think he'll change his mind and realize that he makes me happy?" Blair continued.

Serena stared at her for a minute before shrugging.

"Do you think staying away will convince him that I'm displeased with his decision? If he sees me on the street and sees how _un-_miserable I am—will _that_ make him second guess himself?" she observed. "Or do you think that maybe, just maybe, he'll take that as me agreeing with him?"

"I see your point, but do you really need to go all black ops on him?"

"He would expect nothing less."

"Wait, so Chuck _wants_ you to convince him that he's wrong?" Serena asked confusedly.

"Yes and no," Blair said with a sigh. "I just mean, he _sees_ me…_all_ of me. He wouldn't put it past me to go this far. And it's not going to make him love me any less for being this devious. If anything, he'll admire the fact that I haven't lost a step. I know he thinks he's doing the right thing, and I can't help but love him more for it."

"But if that's the case, why are we here at Cece's, instead of in Manhattan so you can play your game?"

"Because Chuck has nothing scheduled for this week, normally this time of year he's in San Francisco with Henry. She forwarded me his itinerary for the next month. Until Monday, if he wants, he can lock himself up in his penthouse or just go back and forth to the office. What's the point of actually _exerting_ energy, when I _know _he won't make himself available? I'm lulling him into a false sense of security before I attack," Blair reasoned.

"But Sam texted me this morning. He asked if I knew why Chuck was being so jumpy. What are you doing, exactly?" Serena asked curiously.

"I may have hired a quartet of actresses to conveniently haunt his usual spots," Blair smirked.

"Actresses?"

"All similar in shape and size, with wigs matching my hair color and style, and costumed in significantly nostalgic articles of clothing, that he will recognize as _mine_. My doubles have been conveniently stalking him, perhaps making him feel a bit hunted," she giggled. "I'm sure he thinks he's seeing things."

"B! That's evil!" Serena exclaimed as she tried to mask a smile.

"Evil _genius_ is more like it," she quipped.

The girls burst out in laughter.

When she finally stopped long enough to catch her breath, Blair looked at Serena seriously and said, "I love him, S. And I know you think I'm setting myself up to get hurt, but right now you're acting no better than Chuck, trying to protect me. He's punishing himself. He doesn't think he deserves me, and he's convinced himself that he'll just fuck shit up. You do remember prom, don't you?"

"Blair, I—."

"It's been really intense since I got back from Paris, you know?" She interrupted. "I'm just trying to remind him of how much fun we have together—and what better way than in a game of seduction? So, will you stop acting like a parent and just be my best friend? It's hard enough with Chuck doubting himself, I don't need you doubting me, too."

"I love you, B. I just want you to be happy, _with or without Chuck_," Serena stressed.

"I'm not dependent on him to be happy. But I've tried being happy without Chuck—and I ended up with a very sweet fiancé that I wasn't in love with. _Chuck_ makes me happy, elated, even. When I'm with him, I get to stop thinking—he completely accepts me for who I am, and I can just _be_. Why should I settle for happiness when I can have bliss?" Blair questioned honestly.

"You shouldn't settle for _anything_," Serena reiterated.

"Speaking of settling…" Blair trailed off. She needed to direct this conversation towards a lighter path. Honestly, she'd had quite enough with the angst lately. "I ran into Carter Baizen the other night."

"What? He's back in town?" She sputtered. "Where did you see him?"

Blair smirked. "He actually was at The Lion the night of Chuck's birthday. He bought me a drink."

"Why would you talk to him?" She demanded. "Have you suddenly become suicidal? If Chuck and Nate found out, they'd flip a coin to see who got to strangle _you_ and who got to throttle _him_."

"He seems different. He asked about you," she said slyly. "And he looked as handsome as ever."

"He did? Is his hair still short?" Serena asked eagerly. "Did you say anything?"

"You seem awfully curious for someone who won't answer his calls. Maybe I shouldn't tell you," Blair threatened playfully. "Could it be that you're still carrying a torch for him?"

"Fine," Serena snapped angrily. "Don't tell me anything, in fact, I don't want to hear his name coming out of your mouth again."

"S!" She called out, as she watched Serena storm out of the room. Blair looked into the empty space that had just been vacated by her best friend. _That_ certainly hadn't been the reaction she was expecting. The flare of excitement that she saw in Serena's eyes, though—revealed everything. Perhaps she and Carter could kill two birds with one stone. She reached for her phone and started to text away.

She'd apologize to Serena later—after she was done plotting, and perhaps with that pint of ice cream she'd seen in the freezer.

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"Guess who?" A soft voice whispered in his ear—dainty, feminine hands placed over his eyes. His heart had jumped at the words, but Chuck knew with 100% certainty, that it was _not_ Blair. He should be relieved, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed as he tugged on Henry's hands and spun around on the barstool to give her a warm hug.

"When did you get in?" He asked, as he noticed how tired she looked. Bags were starting to form under her eyes. "What's wrong, Hen?"

She didn't quite meet his eyes as she rambled, "I'm just tired. A couple of all-nighters with my college roommates. Don't worry about it."

Chuck was about to press further, but from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Blair. She was seated at the end of the bar, facing away from him—her hair loosely pulled in a bun, her neck exposed for his torment. Without looking at Henry, he mumbled, "Let's get out of here, grab some dinner, you can tell me all about your trip."

"Sorry, Chuck," she shook her head. "I'm here with Blair."

He turned to face her as his eyes narrowed slightly. "What the fuck is going on?"

"She called last night, asking if she could pick me up from the airport and buy me a drink and dinner. We just sat down when I saw you. I wanted to come over and say hi. We can grab lunch tomorrow," Henry explained. "Or you're more than welcome to join us."

"Seriously? Are you in on this with her?" He demanded.

"In on what?" She asked.

"Hasn't she told you that she's decided she's going fishing for a Bass?"

Henry rolled her eyes. "Where do you come up with this shit? Seriously, I don't have the energy for your mental warfare right now, so I'm going back to Blair. If I knew you were going to be a moody bitch, I wouldn't have even bothered to say hello. I'll text you tomorrow."

He looked past her as she walked away. Blair had turned to look at Chuck in surprise. _Dammit_, he had to stop being so paranoid! He sighed, he should apologize to Hen. Striding towards them, he ignored the voice that asked him if he was forcing himself to apologize now because he actually _should_ or because he couldn't stop from being close to Blair.

"Chuck." Blair arched her brow.

"Blair," he said softly. He turned to Henry, "I'm sorry."

"Pfft," Henry snorted as she took a large sip of her martini.

"Will you please tell her that I have good reason to be paranoid?" Chuck implored Blair.

She smirked at Chuck, before turning wide and innocent eyes towards Henry, "You can't believe a word he says. I think he might have been dropped on his head, as a baby."

"That's the best you have, Waldorf?"

"Don't know what you're talking about!" She sing-songed. "I'm just having a drink with a friend who got back into town from a trip. You don't look so well, have you been sleeping?"

"I've been sleeping, fine," he said curtly.

"If you say so," she said patronizingly.

"I'm sorry, but do I really need to be here for your twisted version of foreplay?" Henry interrupted.

Chuck and Blair turned to look at her with matching looks of sheepish apology.

"I'm going home," Henry announced, as she bit back a grin.

"No!" "You can't leave!" They chorused.

"I'm sleepy, and I think you two will have much more fun on your own. You can make sexual innuendos to your heart's content, and I can avoid vomiting. Blair, I'm stealing your driver. I'm sure Chuck will be more than happy to give you a _ride_. Good night!"

And before either of them could say a word, Henry was already at the other end of the bar saying goodbye to Horace, before she walked out the door.

"Chuck!" Blair exclaimed. "What were you thinking?"

"It's a bit of a coincidence, isn't it? You, magically showing up with _my_ best friend at a bar _I_ own?" He clarified.

"I didn't even know where we were going until she got into the car. She said she wanted to go to Gimlet, that Horace's Moonshine Martini would hit the spot. I didn't even get to find out what's wrong with her!" Blair sounded a bit distressed.

"Did something happen in San Francisco?" He asked with concern.

"I don't know! I was trying to find out! When we spoke while she was out there, she just didn't sound right. I don't know her well enough to know _what_ was off about her. Couldn't you tell?" She accused.

"She looked tired, like she hadn't slept in days. Hen's one of the best sleepers I know—she can fall asleep _anywhere_," Chuck admitted.

"Well, the next time you see her, get me details! I'm worried about her, Bass," she admitted.

"I'll ask her at lunch tomorrow," he promised.

"And don't take her bullshit 'girls night out' answer, either."

"I do know how to handle an interrogation," he sniped.

"You sure about that?" Blair inquired. "You don't look like you're at the top of your game—you didn't even notice there was something wrong with your best friend."

"My mind's been occupied," Chuck answered truthfully, staring directly at her.

"With what?"

"_You know what_."

"Chuck, I haven't been in the city most of this week, what are you talking about?"

"Do you think I don't know what—" he cut himself off when he saw the twinkle in her eyes. He had almost fallen into her trap. He quickly changed tactics. "Nothing. But I have to say, it's good to know that I don't have to worry about you following through on your threat."

"Threat?" Blair smiled in anticipation. She reached over and ran one hand against his chest, as the other started tugging on his tie. Chuck's breath hitched, and she knew she had him right where she wanted. Using his tie for leverage, she drew him closer. Leaning over, she whispered, "It wasn't a threat, it was a promise."

Chuck's nose started nuzzling her neck, his lips hovering over her skin. Just as his mouth was about to make contact, she released his tie and sat up. His hand flew out and grabbed the bar, preventing him from what was undoubtedly going to be a bad fall.

She clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"Please, don't restrain yourself on my account," he said good-naturedly. "I know you, Waldorf, your bark is much worse than your bite."

"You'll just have to wait until Sunday, won't you?" She purposefully teased.

"Sunday? What's Sunday?"

"My first plan of attack."

"Why wait? What about tonight? Tomorrow?" Chuck challenged. "Take your best shot!"

"Well seeing as you ruined my plans for tonight, and I already have a date tomorrow night. Sunday, it'll have to be," she said sassily. "Besides, you know I hate to be rushed."

"Date?" Chuck asked, his throat suddenly dry. "Anyone I know?"

"Maybe," Blair said coyly. "Do you want me to tell you all about him?"

"If you're trying to make me jealous, it's not going to work," he lied. "If he asked you out on a date, he must be smart—you're irresistible."

"Yes, now if only a certain Bass could realize this, we'd be all set," she said pointedly.

"I hope you have a wonderful time, Blair," he forced himself to say.

"I'm sure I will, in fact, I _know_ I will."

He sighed. "Would you like me to have Arthur drive you home now, or would you like another drink?"

"Drink? No, you're buying me dinner," she informed him.

His heart skipped a beat of happiness.

"Before you say anything," she stopped him. "You _owe_ me—you scared off Henry, she was dining companion for this evening. The _least_ you could do, is buy me dinner."

As Chuck stood up and offered his arm to her, he convinced himself he was just being chivalrous. The _only_ reason he was accompanying her to dinner was as a replacement. It had _nothing_ to do with the fact that he wanted to spend more time with her. "Lead the way."

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By 7pm the following evening—Chuck Bass was extremely aggravated, to say the least. _Nothing_ was going his way. His mind kept flickering to his non-date with Blair last night. Unsurprisingly, dinner was wonderful—he had forgotten how relaxed he felt around her. He had also forgotten what it was like to constantly keep his lust in check. It hadn't even been a week since she threw the gauntlet down at him, and he was starting to question how he planned on keeping detached.

The drive home had been both the high and low point of the evening. After dinner, he had unconsciously reached for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, as they walked out of the restaurant. There was a cool evening breeze, and when Blair had slightly shivered, he had just pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her to keep warm until Arthur arrived. She had hesitated for a quick moment before whispering in Arthur's ear and slipping into the limo.

"Blair, what's wrong?" He asked as he slid in after her.

"It's just been awhile since we've been in the _limo_, together," she said.

"Well, that's not _entirely_ true, I did drive you home from Bass Industries the night you drunk-dialed me," he teased. In a more solemn tone, he added, "I'll keep my hands to myself."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she said softly.

Sitting more than foot apart, Blair closed the distance between them. She hooked her legs over his and leaned her head on his shoulder. His arm shifted to pull her closer, when she murmured, "_This,_ I've missed _this_ the most."

He absently traced patterns on her back, while his other hand covered her hand that had been splayed out over his chest. Chuck kissed the top of her head. "Me, too."

They didn't say a word for the rest of the drive—Arthur had been instructed to take the _long_ way to the Waldorf penthouse. When the limo finally stopped, both of them had exhaled a sigh of displeasure, as Chuck reluctantly untangled himself from her. He helped her out of the limo, and they stood—staring at each other for a long moment. The electricity in the air was crackling. Finally, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Good night, Waldorf."

"Good night, Bass." Blair smiled at him. "See you, Sunday."

And before he could object, she disappeared into the lobby.

The most desirable aspect of Blair wasn't just her beauty or her intelligence or their sexual chemistry, even. What made Blair Waldorf the most amazing person to him was the artless manner in which she loved so completely. It was all in the small details she always seemed to understand—the affection she so easily distributed, and how she made him want to lavish her with the same attention back.

Chuck had absolutely no wish to fight her—unfortunately, Blair knew this, too. She was more than aware of the power she held over him—she knew that he desperately wanted to be with her. But he was now even more determined to keep his word—he was letting her go, to protect her from him.

He sighed as tried to push out any further thoughts concerning his all-consuming obsession with the brunette beauty. She was not the only cause of his exacerbation today.

Henry had been completely MIA—not only had she not met him for lunch, she did not return the dozen or so calls and texts he had sent. Chuck had used his key to her apartment, and let himself in—only to find her bed unslept-in, her bags sitting by the door still packed, and not a single clue as to where she was. He pulled out his phone and called her, only to hear the buzzing coming from underneath her bed pillows—she had left her phone at home. Something was seriously wrong, and he hadn't the slightest clue.

Around six he finally relented and called Blair to ask if she had spoken to Henry. She apologetically said no, and brushed him off, citing she had to get ready for her date.

In a stab at desperation, he called Serena. When she showed up, he bluntly asked, "Tell me, it's ok that I'm having my PI go to San Francisco and find out what happened with Henry."

"What? Chuck! You can't do that," she screeched. "What's going on?"

"She's never _not_ called me back. When I went to her house, she hadn't even slept there. Blair mentioned something being off about her last night—and I'm beginning to think she's right."

"You're not, Bart, Chuck," she said softly. "And whatever's going on with Henry—don't make it into something other than a way for you to distract yourself with the fact that Blair's going on a date tonight."

"I'm _not_ making things up!" He insisted.

"And she's an adult! Like it or not, she's _not_ accountable to you. So don't go getting all protective brother on her without knowing what's going on first," Serena argued. "I know you mean well, but it's _not_ going to be appreciated—I'm speaking from experience."

"She's been my one constant all these years, so excuse me if you think I'm overreacting," he said snidely.

_Bzzzz._

_Sorry, I didn't text you about skipping lunch today. I left my phone at home. Chris got into town last night, and I've been hanging out with him ever since—stayed at his hotel last night. Brunch tomorrow? —H_

Chuck glared suspiciously at his phone. His instincts were telling him she way lying to him, it just didn't _sound_ like a text from her.

"Well? What does she say?" Serena asked.

"One of her oldest friends from L.A. is in town. She was with him last night and today."

"See! Answer solved!"

"I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?" He asked sheepishly.

"No argument here. Will you please call off your PI, it's still super creepy that you have one!"

He nodded. Hesitantly, he asked "Want to order take out and catch up?"

Serena beamed. "Only if you give me a tour of your penthouse first! And drinks! Let's have lots and lots of drinks!"

Chuck smiled at her enthusiasm. "Let me call off my dogs first, then the tour, ok? And some drinks, maybe not lots."

She nodded happily. She thought she had been excited that he had even called earlier today—but this unexpected bonding night was even better. Seeing him this relaxed had surprised her—she had figured he would be brooding and moody. Yet, he seemed to have the same kind of lightness that Blair had.

It was past 11pm at night and they had just popped in the second movie of the night—and were picking at the remnants of the half eaten boxes of Chinese food spread on his living room table, when both of their phones buzzed.

Chuck and Serena reached for their phones and looked at their message before they looked at each other quizzically. In unison they asked, "Do you still subscribe to Gossip Girl?"

_Good evening UESers—_

_Imagine my surprise when I opened my last few messages. Is that a Bass signal I see? Or could it be that our former Queen B, no longer needs one? It seems she's been quite busy since waltzing back into town after ending her engagement to Prince Grimaldi. An intimate dinner with C two nights this week. _

They looked at each other strangely before staring back down to scroll through the two images on their phones—Chuck and Blair kissing in an alcove at The Lion, Chuck and Blair holding hands as they exited Gramercy Tavern.

"Someone looks like he's been very busy," Serena teased, before reading the rest of the blast.

_But now she's dancing the night away with another CB, the original CB—Carter Baizen. Or perhaps she has a weakness for anything CB. I wonder what S and C are thinking—have their exes teamed up?_

_You know you love me, _

_Xoxo Gossip Girl_

The smile drained from her face when the next two photos popped up—Blair and Carter dancing too close for comfort and a second photo of a laughing Blair sitting in Carter's lap, while he whispered in her ear, his hand on her knee.

Serena suppressed the jealousy that Carter looked so enthralled by Blair. When she met Chuck's murderous expression, she sighed—tonight was going to be a long night.

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_**tbc**_

* * *

* dictionary dot com - definition #3

A/N: I think we all have to remember that each one of us interprets Chuck and Blair differently—and sometimes, none of us are wrong.

For Noirreigne, my beta, who hasn't attempted to strangle me, _**yet**_. How she puts up with me, I will never know. Thank you.

For my readers and reviewers, sorry this chapter was a bit of a tease, but sometimes you need a transitory chapter (and sometimes I hate writing them as much as you guys may hate reading them). Thanks for your continued support and time.

Special love to xoxochuckandblairxoxo, your encouragement and words couldn't have come at a more perfect time.

OH! And Happy CB Day! (I normally call it VD Day out of habit, but let's just call it Chuck and Blair day instead of Valentine's Day) —the irony of them airing a show on this day while c/b are NOT together, is NOT lost on me.

STILL IN THE CONE OF GG SILENCE - please, no comments/references to the show post 4x11 (the townie), I will be eternally grateful.


	15. a Bass in Waldorf waters

**A/N: Goes AU at end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely conversation between Chuck and Blair about "if two people are meant to be together…" didn't end on that bittersweet note? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months.

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"Chuck," Serena said slowly. "I'm sure it isn't what it looks like. There will be a reasonable explanation for all—"

"_Reasonable explanation_?" He exploded. "You think this isn't _exactly_ what Blair wants it to look like? Do you have selective memory, or did you suddenly forget who your best friend was?"

Serena huffed. "Yes, I know what she's capable of, but I'm _certain_ that this isn't—"

"She's fucking insane if she thinks that I'm going to respond to some photoshopped Gossip Girl blast! And Carter Baizen," he ranted. "Now I _know_ those photos have been doctored, Blair wouldn't let him so much as sniff the air she breathed!"

Annoyance filled Serena, as Chuck ignored her and started pacing the length of his living room. Instead of letting her impart, some possibly pertinent information, he was muttering to himself. And just for that, she was going to help fan the flames. She almost wanted to laugh at the near frenzy he was reaching, because whatever Blair's objective was, it had clearly been accomplished.

She cleared her throat loudly. "Just for the record, _Chuck_."

Surprised by her raised voice, he turned to meet her glare.

"Blair allowed _Carter Baizen_ to buy her a drink after you high-tailed it out of your birthday dinner with her at The Lion. And I believe her words to me while we were in the Hamptons were 'he looked as handsome as ever'," Serena clarified.

Chuck stared at her, stunned.

"And before you try to convince yourself that those photos were tampered with—what about those two photos of you and Blair? Were those 'photoshopped,' as well?"

"Those were real," he said icily.

She could see the vein in his temple throbbing, and feel the jealousy emanating off of him.

"Find out where the fuck they are—now!" Chuck barked. "I'll call Arthur to meet us out front with the limo."

Serena let out a sigh—she hoped Blair knew what she was doing.

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Blair was shocked. She couldn't believe it, she was having a great time with Carter—and she wasn't faking it. When he had picked her up for their faux dinner date, he had brought her a bouquet of roses in an attempt to add some authenticity to the idea that this date was 'real'. She had done her best not to show her disdain for the flowers—seriously, roses? They were so passé.

Unfortunately, Carter had caught her displeasure for them and let out a sigh of exasperation. They had stood awkwardly in silence as they waited for the elevator. When Carter had put his arm around her while they walked to the car, she had shrugged off the physical contact and threw daggers at him with her eyes.

Honestly, she hadn't been sure that they were going to be able to make it through the night. Without Chuck as a captive audience, she had absolutely no desire to be anywhere near Carter. Blair was trying to remember how she had managed to spend multiple days with him all those years ago—it must have been the alcohol.

Their table at The Modern was next to the window, and Blair tried to occupy her time staring at the thirty-one sculptures that inhabited the Rockefeller Sculpture Garden. With the evening floor lights in place, she caught sight of her bored reflection staring back at her. This had seemed like _such_ a good idea a couple of days ago.

She could hear Carter twirling a knife with one hand, while tapping his fingers from his other hand against the table. Blair prayed that the food would come quickly, so they could just get through this as painlessly as possible. Maybe tonight would have to be it—she didn't know if she was going to be able to spend an entire week with him. Come to think of it, she had had more in common with Dan Humphrey! She shuddered in horror at the thought.

Carter chuckled.

"What?" Blair asked warily.

"For a moment there, you looked horrified. Listen, this is going to be a long week, let alone a long night—could we at least attempt to be civil?"

She sighed. "I suppose so. I mean, I should have more in common with you than Dan Humphrey—shouldn't I? We're Upper East Side, and well, he's Brooklyn."

"Is this your subtle way of saying you prefer him to me," Carter asked moodily.

"Good God, no!" Blair exclaimed. "Well…if you ignored his judgmental, holier-than-thou, all-knowing, self-righteous morality, then, yes, I suppose I might prefer him. Like most men who love Serena—somewhere deep down inside, there has to be a tolerable human being, doesn't there?"

"And you wonder why Bass is running away from your rays of sunshine and happiness," Carter mumbled beneath his breath.

"_Excuse me_? I'll have you know, he wouldn't change one thing about me," she said haughtily. "He thinks I'm perfect."

"Oh, I'm _sure_ that's what he tells you," Carter scoffed.

"And he wonders why Serena doesn't return his calls?" Blair muttered to herself.

"Pretend I'm him," he ordered.

Blair put her nose up in the air and shook her head. "Please, even _I'm_ not that imaginative."

"Close your eyes." Carter gritted his teeth. "Now picture him in your head, and pretend I'm him."

Glaring at him, she complied, even though she thought Carter was being ridiculous. But, she had to admit, she'd rather sit with her eyes closed and think about Chuck, than continue this pointless conversation with him. Blair thought back to the evening of her engagement party when Chuck had come out from the shadows, and that first hug they shared. The memory was so vivid—it was the first time she had seen him in almost five years, and she remembered just how alive he made her feel. Her lips easily parted into a smile, and she felt a warm glow at how romantic it had been for him to orchestrate that beautiful dance on the balcony.

"Open your eyes," Carter said quietly.

Blair did as ordered, and was surprised to see a beguiling grin on his face.

"You look beautiful," he informed her.

"Thank you," she blushed.

"Just continue to do that," he instructed.

"Do what?" She asked curiously.

"Just keep whatever image you have in your head that transformed you from the bitchy ice queen, into a radiant, gorgeous woman. See—_this_ version of you, I can't imagine Bass running away from. The look on your face the moment you opened your eyes, and thought you were going to see him—I could see the love in your face. I can't believe he somehow managed to catch you—he doesn't deserve you."

"He doesn't," Blair agreed. "But I want him, and I love him, so I'll have him."

"Bass is a very lucky man," Carter continued to flatter her. "Before you accuse me of being insincere—I know how loyal you are, to a fault. That's why I'm trying so hard here. If on some level you decide you don't despise me, I'll know that I'm doing something right. Serena loves you more than anyone else in this world, so I'm making it my duty to make sure you at least don't hate me."

"I prefer honesty to lies," Blair informed him. "Although, I can't disagree with a word you've said in the past few minutes."

"Can we have a truce of some sort?" Carter asked sincerely. "I know that my track record hasn't been anything to be proud of, and I know that I've managed to screw over three of the people you love most…but I love Serena, with all of my heart. I don't want to be at war with her best friend. And if she loves _you_ that much, then, I want to know why."

Blair stared at him for a moment. She couldn't believe this polite, earnest man sitting in front of her was the same Carter Baizen that encouraged her to spiral out of control and thumb her nose at convention and propriety.

"You know," she said slowly. "Just because you've decided to grow up, doesn't mean you have to lose your personality."

He flashed a grin at her. "You mean it's ok if I go back to being an asshole that makes snide remarks?"

"Oh, you were _always_ an asshole. Besides, Serena gets bored. And if I remember correctly, she liked you _in spite_ of your severe characters flaws," Blair said cheekily.

"Well, you and Chuck seem like a match made in hell. And I mean that in the nicest way possible," Carter sneered.

Blair lifted her martini glass as Carter lifted his tumbler of scotch.

"Cheers, to a miserable friendship," Blair toasted.

Carter laughed as his glass clinked with hers. They each took a hearty sip of their drink, and fell into a comfortable silence.

The first course arrived shortly after.

"Bon appetit," Carter said.

As Blair delicately placed her napkin in her lap and picked up her cutlery, she shyly asked, "Would you like to hear about the first time S and I met?"

A fascinated look crossed his face, and he nodded. Before she could open her mouth, he returned, "But only if you'll let me tell you about the first time I got Bass to play hooky, deal?"

"Deal."

After that, it had all been wonderfully easy. Blair had forgotten how much Chuck and Nate had idolized Carter when they were in junior high. And Blair had the highly exclusive all-access backstage pass to the intricacies of Serena van der Woodsen that Carter craved. Over dinner, and even while they were dancing and doing shots at the club, Carter had peppered her with the most random questions about Serena—what was her favorite type of cookie, her favorite subject in junior high school, the first pet she had, her least favorite animal at the zoo. All the while insisting he regale Blair with stories about the first Lost Weekend that Chuck had been invited to, the first time they had snuck into a strip club, teaching Bass how to smoke out of a bong. It added up for a highly entertaining evening. The one thing she was certain that wouldn't have happened that night was happening—she was warming up to the idea of Carter Baizen being a permanent fixture in Serena's life.

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The twenty-minute drive to the club that Blair and Carter were at, had done _nothing_ to temper the bubbling jealousy building inside of Chuck. Even though he _knew_ he shouldn't be reacting to Blair's game, the thought of that vermin touching the one person he had made off limits to himself, was enough to tip the scales. Chuck had to congratulate Blair mentally, because he certainly wasn't going to tell her how brilliant this simple maneuver had been. He was convinced that he would be able to extract her out of there with minimal fuss—there was no way Blair was actually enjoying herself with Carter.

Serena appeared to be distracted by the blast as well, perhaps she harbored some lingering feelings for Carter. Normally Chuck would jump at the chance of talking his former step-sister out of it, but tonight, anyone who could distract his nemesis from Blair would be welcome—Serena included.

As they walked through the doors, they immediately started to scan the room for Blair. Chuck felt Serena poke him in the stomach, and he followed her gaze. Sitting behind a roped VIP section, sat Blair on Carter's lap, laughing hysterically. And gauging from her body language, all of it was real. Chuck watched in disgust as they toasted and downed, what appeared to be shots of tequila, before standing up. The knot in his stomach tightened as Carter put a familiar hand on Blair's hip and whispered into her ear. Her smile back at him when he walked away, only stirred Chuck's resentment towards Carter.

Chuck nodded for Serena to distract Carter, as he made a beeline for Blair. Worse case scenario, Serena was going to have to fend for herself—there was no way he was leaving Blair here with Carter. As he approached the ropes and the bouncer moved to let him in, he caught her eye.

"Chuck! You're here!" Blair cheered. She jumped up from her seat on the couch, and threw her arms around him, burying her face into his neck.

"You're drunk," he accused. "Drunk, and keeping company with an insect like Baizen."

"I'm not drunk," she informed him happily. "I'm bizzed, bizzed, buzzed—buzzing like a bee! And Carter's more of a rat than an insect, if you think about it. But the more time I spend with him, the more my opinion of him improves. He's my _date_ tonight, you know."

"Blair," Chuck hissed. "We are not having this discussion right now, we're leaving."

She shook her head and wrinkled her nose at him. "Why are you being so grumpy? Is it past your bedtime?"

He scowled at her. "Grab your purse, we're leaving, _now_."

Blair ignored him as she reached over and grabbed his wrist. Her heart warmed at the sight of his birthday present on his cuff. "I _love_ your cufflinks."

His scowl faded as he looked mildly embarrassed for having let her catch him wearing the symbol of her love.

She turned his wrist so she could glance at his watch—it was past midnight. Blair smiled victoriously. "I told you I would see you Sunday!"

Tugging on his hand, she led him to the edge of the dance floor. She glanced over her shoulder and winked. "You're already here, so dance with me."

Chuck pulled his hand from her grasp and crossed his arms. "You've made your point—I showed up. Now let me drive you home and we can talk about this Baizen-habit of yours that you need to drop—permanently."

"No, I want to dance," Blair pouted.

Chuck shook his head. The anger radiating off of him went unnoticed.

"You're being a Bass-kill. And you know what? You're not the boss of me! In fact, you're not even my date tonight. If you want to talk, then you have to dance with me first. If not, schedule an appointment with Dorota," she snapped.

He watched as she made her way through the throng of crowded dancers, and found a spot near the speakers. There were strategically placed spotlights throughout the dance floor, heightening the playful nature of the club. As Blair began to dance in rhythm to the music, her hips swayed seductively, eyes closed and her arms stretched above her—Chuck became hypnotized. She was poetry in motion and clearly unaware of the erotic image she created. Anger gave way to desire. And as he unconsciously started to move towards her, different men soon surrounded her—all wanting to be the man she danced with and for.

Her eyes opened and locked with his, as she continued dancing, allowing the men around her to get closer and closer. He saw the challenge in her eyes—if he wanted her, he was going to have to come get her. Chuck's hands fisted in frustration, as one man had the audacity to place his hands on her. When Blair did nothing to discourage his actions, and the stranger touched his body to hers—Chuck saw red.

It only took a few forceful few strides to reach her. Before Chuck could even think to peel the man off of her—Blair had already rid herself of him. She smiled as his arms possessively wrapped around her waist from behind. She continued to gyrate to the beat of the song, as his hands roamed freely over her body, and he stepped in time with her. Blair turned so that her breasts were pressed up against his chest, and she ran one hand through his hair. It shouldn't thrill her as much as it did—but she loved it when he claimed her as blatantly as he just had.

He touched his forehead to hers, and she was entranced by the predatory look in his eyes. Chuck pulled her so close to his body that they were touching at almost every point—and she could feel his arousal as it ignited hers. Suddenly, his lips were on hers, and everything faded into the background—all Blair could feel, smell or hear was Chuck. She was drowning in sensation and she never wanted to come up for air.

Chuck's lips slowly left hers and his eyes were clouded with lust. His hand found hers, and he twined their fingers together as he guided her off the dance floor. They had reached the couch in the roped off VIP section she had been lounging at when he had arrived, and Chuck sat down first. Blair stood in front of him as she placed her right knee outside of his left thigh, and swung her other knee so she could straddle him. As his hands caressed her backside, her hands speared his hair—her lips floating just above his.

In a sultry voice, she teased, "Do you want to talk…or—"

"No talking," he growled.

Blair smiled as she nipped at his lips playfully, the kisses quickly building up to the intensity they had shared on the dance floor. As their mouth fused in passion, she heard nothing but the pounding of her heart, and felt nothing but him. He dragged his mouth from hers, as he started kissing her neck.

"Let me take you home," Chuck said hotly. "I need to taste you—_all_ of you."

A thrill of excitement ran up her spine. Her eyes fluttered open. With a slow smirk, she asked, "Are you conceding?"

"Blair," he whispered.

She looked down at him—his face frozen. She pressed, "Am I officially 'off the market'?"

Chuck was immobile and speechless—his expression relaying that he had not expected her to want the verbal confirmation. Blair broke her gaze from him, and looked away. From the mirror slightly to her left—she could see Serena and Carter arguing across the room. She watched as Carter reached for Serena's hand—he seemed to be begging her to stay. When she saw Serena break free from his grasp and storm towards the club exit, Blair let out a long sigh.

The silence from Chuck was deafening. She looked down at him, and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Thank you—that's all I needed to hear."

Blair pushed herself off of Chuck's lap. As she reached down to grab her purse, his hand shot out and gripped her wrist tightly. He forced her to turn back around and face him. "You know my position on this."

"I do," she nodded.

"I love you," he insisted. "Don't think for a moment that I don't."

With her free hand, she stroked his face gently. "I know you do, but that's not enough. I have to go. My date is waiting for me, and I think Serena is waiting for you outside."

Chuck released her wrist and crumpled back against the couch.

Blair did not allow herself to look back as she walked over to a dejected Carter. "Come on, Baizen—let's get out of here. I'll buy you a drink."

Carter nodded without looking at her, and Blair led the way out of the club and into the night.

.

.

.

"Can I ask you something?" Carter asked with a slight slur.

"Sure."

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Not give up?"

Blair shrugged.

"No, I mean seriously, how do you do it? How do you keep telling yourself it's worth it?"

"You're joking."

Carter shook his head as he clumsily reached for the bottle of scotch sitting on the Waldorf kitchen counter, and topped of his glass.

"Listen, you _asshole_, if you weren't sure Serena was worth it, what was the point of begging me to get her to listen to you? Are you really going to run the second she puts a roadblock in your way? You _know_ she pushes people away from her, as hard as she can. She just wants you to push back. If that's too difficult for you, put down the scotch down and get the fuck out of my penthouse," Blair seethed.

"That!" Carter exclaimed, punctuating the word by jabbing a finger through the air. "How do you do that? How can you just decipher the correct plan of attack in all of two seconds and not doubt yourself? Bass was all over you tonight, and you walked away from him. You had him right where you wanted him!"

"I wouldn't say that exactly," Blair said wryly. "I was _thisclose_ to having him right where I wanted."

"Ugh! Please spare me the visuals—you, yes, him, no thanks!"

She laughed, and Carter joined in shortly after.

"It's him," she answered softly. "It's Chuck's love for me that makes me not give up or doubt myself. I know with a billion percent certainty that he loves me—and that his feelings have never wavered. Chuck doesn't know how to _not_ love me. He's trying to give me the world, by letting me go. He's done it before, and I've let him. This time, I'm not letting him."

Carter turned to her and solemnly said, "That is the most sappiest load of crap, I have ever heard. However, I believe you. And I want to be _that_ guy for Serena."

"Well, maybe you should be saying those words to _me_, instead of getting drunk and harassing my best friend," Serena's voice came from behind them.

"How long have you been standing there?" Carter asked hoarsely.

"Long enough."

Blair turned around to see her best friend leaning in the kitchen doorway. Carter stood up and walked over to Serena.

"Please, let me love you. That's all I want," Carter begged, as he cradled her face in his hands.

Blair watched in fascination as she saw her best friend's eyes well with tears. She could see Serena struggling to control her emotions. Quietly, Blair slid off her stool, hiding her smile. She tiptoed out of the kitchen through the back stairs and left the lovebirds alone. Whatever was going on between Carter and Serena—they didn't need her to witness it.

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.

Blair's nose twitched as she felt a slight tickle. She wrinkled her nose while she rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. She turned her face to the side as she mewled in displeasure. A feather-light caress trailed from her cheek all the way down her neck and back up. When she felt the silken petal on her nose, and inhaled the light earthy fragrance of a peony, her eyes opened to see her favorite pair of caramel brown ones staring back at her.

"Good morning, beautiful," Chuck said softly, placing the single peony stem on her nightstand.

"Not a good morning," Blair grumbled. She turned away from him, onto her side and buried her face into the pillow. "What time is it?"

"Seven."

"It's too early for me to deal with you right now, and my head hurts. Go away!"

Her voice was muffled by the pillow, but he heard every word she said.

"I come bearing gifts…" he cajoled.

"Gifts?" She couldn't resist lifting her head, and cracking open one eye as she moved her body to face him, once again.

In one hand held a glass full of Chuck's green, 'surefire' hangover cure, and the other hand held a distinctive red shoe sack.

"Shoes first," she demanded. Blair tried not to wince as she sat up, her head was beginning to pound. She was grateful that Chuck had not pulled the curtains back to let in any natural light. Only the dim light of her desk lamp had been turned on.

"Drink first," he countered as he held out the glass. "It'll make you feel better."

Blair glared at him. "Fine. I drink, you hand me the shoes, and then you leave."

He shook his head. "Drink first, you can 'ooh' and 'ahh' over the shoes, and then we can talk."

She stared at the glass as though it were the enemy, even though she _knew_ from previous experience that she would start to feel better almost instantly. "You're the one creeping into my room like a stalker, you're in no position to make demands."

"Blair, please drink this," Chuck said calmly. "If you don't, I will walk out of here and courier these _custom_, _one-of-a-kind_ Louboutins to Georgina Sparks."

"What!" She sputtered. Huffing, she snatched the glass out of his hand and drank all the contents in one gulp. Blair thrust the now empty glass back at him and held out her other hand for the shoes.

She ignored his triumphant smirk as he gently placed the shoes in her lap. Blair eagerly petted the sack, enjoying the thrill a new pair of shoes always brought her and ignoring the sharp pain at the back of her head that was already beginning to fade.

"I didn't know they did one-of-a-kind Loubutins. Well, except for last season, when rumor had it he'd been commissioned to do a private collection for some billionaire—" she paused. Her eyes narrowed, "Are _you_ said billionaire?"

Chuck shrugged innocently.

"When did you even have time to get these?" She pressed. Looking at him carefully, she noticed he was still wearing his clothes from last evening, and he looked exhausted. "There's no way you can just magically snap your fingers and have—"

"Are you going to open them or not?" He inserted smoothly. "I do think _Georgie_ would love them almost as much as you would."

"Did you _want_ me to throw these shoes at your head?" She threatened.

He merely crossed his arms as leaned against the wall. Blair noted irritably, how terribly handsome he looked in his rumpled state and sighed. She pulled the shoes out and gasped when she saw them.

"How? When? But these…" she sputtered. They were replicas of her favorite red velvet and ostrich boots, with three alterations—they were approximately an inch and a half taller, only the velvet was red in color, and the zipper had been moved from the inside to the back of the heel with a bow. "You couldn't possibly have been listening to me the time I talked about redesigning these shoes."

"I'm Chuck Bass," he smirked.

Blair lovingly stroked the shoes, they looked even better than she had imagined. "These are beautiful."

"Am I forgiven?"

"For what?" Blair asked as she continued fawning over the shoes. She held one up to in the air, admiring the craftsmanship and marveling at how even more perfect they were for her now.

"For upsetting you last night—at the club," he clarified.

"Oh, _that_." She stifled a yawn. "No, not forgiven."

Blair placed the shoes back in the sack, as her body reminded her that she had only had a couple of hours of sleep. As wonderfully distracting as the shoes had been, she was sleepy. She held out the bag and gestured for Chuck to put them on her desk. As he did so, she burrowed back into her bed, pulling the comforter up to her neck.

She heard Chuck as he knelt by her bed, his hand reaching out to tuck a curl behind her ear. Blair involuntarily smiled at the sweetness of the gesture.

"I couldn't sleep last night with the thought of you going to bed angry at me," Chuck confessed, while he brushed a thumb against her cheek.

"Don't want to talk right now," she pouted. "I'm sleepy, and you woke me up."

"Don't be mad at me, Blair. I could have lied to you, but I didn't. I love you too much to lie to you," he whispered.

She rolled over to the other side of the bed, and away from him. Her arm reached back and pulled the duvet back.

"Snuggle, now," she commanded. "Maybe, I'll forgive you when I wake up."

She heard the rustling of him slipping off his clothes. A moment later, she felt the bed shift from his added weight. His arm snaked around her waist and brought her against his body. She murmured, "This is a start."

But when he buried his face into her neck, she sighed happily and drifted back to sleep.

.

.

.

It was Blair's unconscious movement that woke him up, a couple hours later. When her hip had brushed up against a rather sensitive part of his anatomy, he had been unable to fall back asleep. Chuck laid there studiously analyzing her every shift and movement.

A solitary bead of perspiration trickled down from her neck, and into the valley of her breasts. The silk black negligee she wore, more risqué than the ones she had worn during their time together, did nothing but enhance her charms. Unable to resist any longer, Chuck mimicked the path of that one drop of sweat that had held him captive.

But like all things about Blair, the first taste was so tempting, that he became insatiable. His mouth left hot, wet kisses trailing from her neck, meandering leisurely at her breasts before guiding himself towards her flat stomach. Chuck was too close to his desired target to practice any restraint, and the blinding desire to taste the sweetness of her was overwhelming. As he slid her lace panties off of her, his fingers dragged against her thighs. When he finally placed his mouth where he had so desperately wanted to last night, her soft moans urged him on.

It was the euphoric feel of her fingernails leaving crescent shaped indentations in his skull and her hands pulling sharply on his hair, that made him smile against her. And he did not stop his exploration of her until his mouth and fingers had made her scream his name in ecstasy.

.

.

.

"Let's negotiate," Chuck murmured as he started to bite gently on her jawline.

"Negotiate what?" Blair stifled a moan.

She was sitting on her bathroom counter, with her legs wrapped around Chuck's waist, his hair still damp from his very cold shower. But from where she sat, it was clear that the shower had done nothing to diminish his desire for her. Her fingers were digging into his bare shoulders, and only the towel slung on his hips acted as a barrier between them.

"The terms in which Baizen will cease being part of your social calendar, forever," he said against her neck, as his tongue traced patterns, his teeth lightly grazing her skin.

Her eyes rolled back into her head, as she tried to focus on his words, his mouth sucking at her neck, in all the right places. His hands tightly gripped her waist.

"I don't know," she managed to breathe out. "We have several dates lined up this week."

"Cancel them," Chuck said, as he sucked harder on her neck, causing her to whimper in both pleasure and pain.

"Are you offering an alternative?"

He adjusted his position so he could to pay equal attention to the other side of her neck.

"If you are willing to stand-in for him, tomorrow night, I suppose I could reschedule," she continued to bait him. Blair needed to keep her wits about her, otherwise she would be tugging Chuck's towel off of him—and giving them what they both wanted and needed.

"Can I interest you in a movie? Private screening room at The Palace?" He whispered, as his tongue tickled her ear.

"Maybe," she teased.

He paused his nuzzling to stare straight into her eyes. "Cancel your date, no rescheduling, and you can have movie night."

The indecision shone clearly in her eyes.

"Please."

"Okay," Blair nodded.

Chuck breathed a sigh of relief, and resumed his mouth's thorough examination of her neck.

.

.

.

When she arrived to the screening room at The Palace Hotel that Chuck had instructed her to meet him at, she felt a little nervous. Just thinking about their over two hour make out session in her bathroom yesterday, had her flushing with excitement. It had surprised her that after Chuck had finagled her agreement to cancel her date with Carter, he had simply continued kissing her, but left it at that. Regardless of how aroused both of them had been, he had left it strictly PG, and it had made her feel like they were in high school, all over again.

When they finally left the confines of her bathroom, they had ordered in an early dinner, and spent the majority of the evening, cuddled on the couch. There hadn't been many words, just the quiet enjoyment of touching and being. She had almost asked him to spend the night, but thought better of it. When it had been time for him to leave, they had spent another thirty minutes kissing. She had loved every single moment of yesterday. And now, standing outside the door, the only coherent thought ringing in her head was, _Chuck and Blair, going to the movies_. The butterflies in her stomach made her feel as though she were going on her very first date. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Surprise!" Serena, Henry, Dorota and Anastasia cried out.

In the middle of the room was the largest bed she had ever seen. And there were her friends dressed in their pajamas selecting items from a high-end, faux 'concession stand' set to the side of the room.

"Do you like, Miss Blair?" Dorota asked. "Mr. Chuck, say he want to surprise you."

"Oh, I'm surprised, all right," Blair agreed, unable to mask the shock on her face. "I definitely wasn't expecting this."

"Did he _trick_ you?" Henry asked, unable to keep a grin off of her face.

"That can neither be confirmed nor denied at present," Blair said snottily.

"You were surprised, right, Auntie Blair?" Anastasia asked excitedly. "Mr. Chuck said I could take _all_ the candy that we didn't eat home!"

"I'm very surprised, sweetheart," she enthused, bending down to embrace her goddaughter.

Anastasia giggled before she danced off to study the available candy and the array of treats that had been provided. Dorota smiled indulgently before quickly following her daughter, in an attempt to limit the sugar high.

"You don't seem too upset by this, B. Should Chuck be scared?" Serena teased.

"I'm too busy being proud of him for coming up with this to be upset," Blair confided. "This was kind of brilliant—ingenious, really. I want to be mad, but technically, I can't be."

"Well, please don't tell him that, he's smug enough as is," Henry groaned. "He thinks he's _soooo_ smart! I don't want hear the words 'I told you so' coming from him."

Serena looked over at Henry and clucked sympathetically, "And he's such an _ass_ about it when he says it, too."

Blair looked at the two of them suspiciously. "You two are being _nice_ to each other, downright friendly. What's going on?"

"It would be utterly churlish of me to hold a grudge against Serena, especially when she's the source of information—like Chuck wanting to send a PI after me," Henry stated, in a matter-of-fact voice. "Besides, she's tall, and she can reach things on the top shelf, without getting a ladder."

In a loud stage whisper, Serena said, "Henry bakes cookies. _From scratch,_ B! They come out of the oven, warm and gooey! Oh, and obviously, I'm nice and everyone loves me."

All three girls burst into laughter.

"We have a truce, B," Serena admitted. "We don't love each other, but we're trying to like each other for the sake of you and Chuck."

"Speaking of which, are those _hickeys_ on your neck?" Henry's eyes widened. "How old are you two, sixteen?"

Blair blushed furiously. She hadn't even thought to cover them up. And honestly, she felt a flash of thrill seeing her porcelain skin, dotted with marks of Chuck's passion.

"You _despise_ hickeys! Didn't you almost break up with Nate after he gave you a barely visible one the week before class photos in eighth grade? Wasn't there some speech about misogynistic undertones by trying to 'mark' you as his property?"

"Did Chuck think branding you was the best method for keeping the boys away? I'd blame him, but your inability to use something known as a scarf to cover it up, makes me think that you like them. At least you could have used some cover up! Aren't you a bit too old for hickeys?"

"And aren't you too old to be wearing your alma mater's sweatpants and tank top as sleepwear?" Blair huffed at Henry. "I have no idea what either of you are talking about. Don't we have a movie to watch?"

She stormed off and joined Dorota and Anastasia.

Serena met Henry's eyes and the two collapsed onto the bed, howling in hysterics. Serena started singing, "Chuck and Blair, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Blair was unable to keep the smile from crossing her face at the juvenile ribbing from her best friend, but avoided having to respond by letting her goddaughter pick out which nightgown she was to change into.

.

.

.

_Bzzzz._

_Enjoying the movie?_

_Bzzzz._

_I should be furious with you, but very well played. Point awarded, Bass. _

_Bzzzz._

_You should take this as a reminder not to underestimate my abilities. I am capable of more than defensive tactics._

_Bzzzz._

_So it appears. _

_Bzzzz._

_I'm trying to imagine which nightgown you're wearing. You should send me a photo, as a proper reward. _

_Bzzzz._

_Sadly, your punishment is going to be an evening without photos of me. _

_Bzzzz._

_Well, I'll just have to use my imagination and assume you aren't wearing anything._

_Bzzzz._

_Chuck Bass, we are not sexting!_

_Bzzzz._

_I've been told that I can be very, very convincing._

"Auntie Blair?" Anastasia interrupted.

"Yes?" She mumbled. Her cheeks flushed with guilt.

"Why do you keep playing with your phone, instead of watching the movie? I thought Tiffany's Breakfast was you favorite movie? Who are you talking to?"

"Breakfast at Tiffany's," she automatically corrected. With a smile she said, "I'm talking to Chuck, to thank him, for setting this up."

"You're smiling, _a lot_. Do you like Mr. Chuck?" Anastasia asked excitedly.

"No, she _loves_ Mr. Chuck," Serena and Henry sang together.

"Will he be my Uncle Chuck, then?"

"Definitely," Serena replied, before Blair could open her mouth.

"You can bet on that," Henry reinforced.

"Tell Uncle Chuck I said thank you, Auntie Blair," Anastasia said sweetly. She smiled at her mother, before taking a handful of popcorn and focusing back on the movie screen.

_Bzzzz._

_Anastasia told me to tell you, thank you, Uncle Chuck._

_Bzzzz._

_Tell her I said, you're welcome._

.

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_**tbc

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**_

A/N: I think the next chapter will also be fairly fluffy, before we start to transition into a bit of angst. Trying to wrap up all the loose ends, as the story is starting to wind down—although I'm still highly uncertain how many chapters it will be, hovering somewhere around twenty, but that is not finite.

**For the amazing and phenomenal signaturescarf, who had me flushing with excitement, when she made fanart for Chapter 14. The link to which is on my profile page…thank you again, so much! We are united in our Chair love!**

As always, for my lovely beta, Noirreigne, who I secretly am convinced will be thrilled when this story is done—only so she does not have to listen to me obsess about trivial details.

Also to Temp02, for being adorable and entertaining…your PM was loved and appreciated, and I agree…why _do_ non-Chair fans read Chair fics? Boggles the mind, seriously!

For my readers and reviewers, I seriously LOVE you guys! You totally make my day, and you guys make me love writing this story even more! So, thank you for your time!

And of course, the GG cone of silence is still in effect. It keeps me less stressed!


	16. reeling him in

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

* * *

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It was well past midnight when Blair finally reached the Waldorf penthouse. The evening had not turned out at all like she had planned—yet strangely, she wasn't upset. The girls night had actually been perfect, unexpected, but perfect. Having been wrapped up in this game with Chuck, Blair had forgotten to make time for herself. She had to remember that sometimes she needed to step outside of her own head—even if she didn't want to.

Dorota had apologetically left with a sleeping Anastasia, somewhere around the nine o'clock hour. Blair had promised to have the leftover goodies sent over in the morning, despite Dorota's protests. Instead of watching any number of movies that Chuck had thoughtfully provided, Serena, Henry and her had just sprawled out on the bed and talked aimlessly. The incessant text messages and phone calls from Carter had Serena bowing out some thirty-odd minutes later. She had blushed gorgeously before apologizing for bailing. Serena reminded Blair that this was her own fault—after all, she had been the one playing matchmaker, as she slipped out the door.

"_And then there were two," Henry laughed._

"_Are you sure there isn't a secret boyfriend or flame hiding somewhere? Are you next in line to sneak out the door on girls night?" Blair teased._

_Henry smiled uncomfortably. "None worth mentioning."_

"_What's wrong? I know something's been going on with you since you went to San Francisco."_

"_Oh, I forgot, you and Chuck like to operate on a tandem. Has he put you up to this? Is this his alternate way of fishing for information instead of sending his PI after me?" She said defensively._

"_Henry! What's going on? Just talk to me. This has nothing to do with Chuck, I'm worried about you," Blair stressed. _

"_You shouldn't be," she returned icily._

_Blair's eyes narrowed as she glared back. "Why not? We're eventually going to be family. You can either tell me what's wrong now, or I can do my own investigation. Chuck and I have very different methods of abstraction."_

"_If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell Chuck," Henry said softly. There was an exhaustion in her eyes, Blair hadn't noticed before. _

"_Are you sick?" Blair whispered._

_Henry laughed hollowly. "I wish it was something that simple. No, I'm not sick, it's nothing like that."_

"_I won't _lie_ to Chuck, but you can trust me."_

"_I'm not trying to hide anything from Chuck, honestly. But if he finds out what's going on, he's going to use it as an excuse to focus on my life instead of dealing with you. You're so close to breaking through to him. I want him to be happy with you," Henry explained. _

"_And we can't want you to be happy, too?"_

_The words hung in the air between the two for several moments. _

_Finally, Henry nodded. "I guess I should start from the beginning..."_

As Blair kicked off her shoes, and started to get undressed, she was still marveling at everything Henry had told her tonight. She would have never guessed that Henry had been through something like that. There had been telltale signs—but all so minute, that you would have to have known what to look for, to even begin piecing the details of her life together. And Blair knew that Henry was right to keep what had happened with Hugh in San Francisco a secret from Chuck. Finding out that Henry hadn't forgiven Hugh would only reaffirm Chuck's belief that he had to protect Blair from himself.

Just as she pulled back the covers of her bed, her phone rang. She looked down in surprise to see Chuck's name flashing on the screen.

"You're home late," Chuck accused sleepily.

"Yes, that happens when one has girls night, instead of a _date_, like someone tricked me into believing," she mockingly accused back. "How did you know I was home?"

"Roger called me when you got in," he said with a yawn.

"My doorman is now spying on me?" Blair shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I had a surprise for you," he grumbled. "Now it's spoiled."

"Another surprise? Will I like it?"

"You'll have to wait," he said petulantly.

"Chuuuuuck," Blair dragged out his name. "Tell me! I want to know!"

"Well, if you behave yourself, and are home at a reasonable hour," Chuck taunted. "We can try this again tomorrow night."

"Well, I suppose I can wait until then," she conceded.

"I have a business dinner at six, but if all goes well, I should be free to pick you up around nine," he informed her.

"So, is this a date?" Blair asked hopefully.

"Maybe," he laughed. "Whatever it is, I planned it just for you."

"That will have to do, for now," she sighed. "Call me tomorrow? When you're leaving dinner?"

"Waldorf, don't hang up!" Chuck objected.

"Did you need something?" Blair asked curiously.

"No." He paused. "It's just that I've missed talking to you."

She bit back a smile, but said nothing.

"So, tell me about your day," he asked quietly.

And for the next two hours, Blair did exactly that—until they both fell asleep to the sound of each other's breathing, while clutching their phones in their hands.

.

.

.

"You look exhausted," Henry observed. "You weren't up late, looking over the terms again, were you? This is the best deal that Mercer and Ward are going to get—I've crunched the numbers a dozen times."

Chuck stifled a yawn. He shook his head, "I know your numbers are solid. I was just up later than I expected last night."

"I hope you have a good excuse, you've been wanting to buy them out for the past two years. Although, I still don't quite understand _why_. I really don't see what they're going to add to BI's portfolio. But for you to be this tired to negotiate terms for something you've wanted this badly—hope it was worth it."

A small smile crossed Chuck's face, as he remembered falling asleep to Blair's adorable rambling, the speed of her words slowing down as she grew more tired. "It was."

"That was your Blair smile!" Henry exclaimed excitedly. "What did you do?"

"_Nothing_."

"Yeah, right. Well whatever it was, it wasn't at the Palace. Blair had the car drop me off—."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about the details, Hen," Chuck smoothly interrupted. "As Senior VP of Mergers and Acquisitions, you will be handling most of the term negotiations. I'm thinking that appearing tired and distracted may work to my benefit. It may make it seem like I'm less interested—give us more leverage—especially since I _don't_ have my game face on."

"Fair enough," Henry agreed. "Although, why again, are we doing this over dinner? And at STK, of all places? Isn't that a little too loud, a little too hip?"

"I don't know," Chuck answered truthfully. "Greg and Marshall were the ones to suggest it. You know, I think I've been after them for so long because it was the one company that always managed to evade my father. And strangely, I want to handle it the exact opposite way he would. No boardroom is fine by me. Besides, this is a preliminary meeting, no need to be overly formal just yet."

"True. But I don't want to walk out of there without a firm answer," Henry concluded.

"I'll leave that in your capable hands," Chuck assured her. "But can we make this dinner as efficient as possible?"

"Sure. How efficient are we talking?"

"Two hours?"

Henry let out a whistle. "Bare bones, I see. So long as they're willing to play ball, I can make it happen. Any particular reason?"

Chuck bit his tongue. He knew that as soon as he said the words out loud, he couldn't take them back. And lord knew, Hen would _never_ let it sit, and would continually remind him of what he had said. There was no rational point in hiding it from her, she would find out soon enough anyway. Besides, there was nothing to be ashamed of. So long as Chuck didn't tell her how close he was to considering rethinking his stance on this entire situation, he would be fine. He had forgotten the simple luxury it was having Blair be an active part of his life. The past week had reminded him of just how much he missed _her_. Loving her blindly, he had been fully prepared to deal with. He had not been prepared for how seamlessly she fell back into his world.

"I have a surprise planned for Blair," he mumbled.

The limo was deadly silent. Chuck continued to stare straight ahead, not daring to look over to meet her eyes.

A minute later, he heard Hen mimic the sound of a whip before coughing, "Whipped."

Chuck scowled at her, as she continued to make various sound effects for her own amusement. The most exasperating part about Hen was that while she was his biggest supporter, she mocked him like no other.

She finally stopped a few minutes later, but only because she was laughing too hard to continue. Before he could open his mouth, she interrupted him with a childish chant, "Chuck has a girlfriend, Chuck has a girlfriend!"

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.

.

Blair sat in the Champagne Lounge of STK, absently waiting for Carter to show up.

She had woken up this morning next to a dead cell phone, and she couldn't wipe the huge grin off her face. When she had walked downstairs to get breakfast, sitting on the foyer table was a beautiful arrangement of exotic orchids. Attached was a card.

_Blair—_

_I was sorry not to wake up to symphony that is your breathing. _

_See you around 9pm._

–_Chuck_

_P.S. Tonight is definitely a date._

Reading the card, Blair knew that she was tired of playing games with Chuck. She was as irresistible to him as he was to her. Regardless of whether he realized it or not, they were dating. It was apparent in every thoughtful action and gesture he made.

Before Blair could text Carter to call the whole charade off, he had called her, asking to meet him for a drink at STK. Carter sounded so jubilant and excited, that she couldn't say no. Things, it appeared, were working out for both of them.

She had dressed carefully, before leaving the house—as far as Blair knew, Carter might drag her out to meet up with Serena. She wasn't sure _what_ Chuck had planned, but she was excited, and wished to be appropriately dressed. Blair had slipped on a knee-length, halter, black and white print dress, which suited the warm end of spring weather.

"Blair!" Carter's voice bellowed from across the room.

Turning slowly, she smiled. "Carter."

He tugged on her hand and pulled her out of the high bar chair, and pulled her into a euphoric hug and swung her around in a circle.

"You look gorgeous," he smarmed, happily.

She slapped him on the shoulder. Gently, she chided him, "Put me down this instant!"

As he set her down on the floor, he took her hand, while twirling her around. He nodded appreciatively at her. Carter's eyes lingered on the barely fading marks that adorned her neck that she had yet again, failed to cover. "Love looks good on you. I see Bass has been quite busy."

Blair rolled her eyes. "Love is making you unbearably annoying, in that sugar overdose kind of way."

They sat down, and Carter ordered a bottle of champagne. While they waited for the bartender to fetch her preferred vintage, Carter sat quietly beaming. Blair wanted to kick him to get his attention, but he was reveling in his own happiness. With a quick glance at her watch, she saw that she still had almost two hours before Chuck was supposed to pick her up, and reined in her impatience.

With a goofy grin on his face, Carter handed her a flute, and toasted her.

"To the most unexpected alliances bringing love into our lives. May I spend the rest of my life worshipping at your altar."

"Carter, quite frankly, you're scaring me," Blair said firmly. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Serena said yes!" Carter said in an exaggerated whisper.

It took Blair exactly ten seconds to register what he meant. She jumped up and threw her arms around Carter. When she pulled back, he held her hands and they danced in glee. Despite the fact that Blair thought it was highly ill-advised for Serena to go jump into marriage—this was Serena and Carter. They were impulsive and fought any sort of stability, by nature. For Carter to have actually asked and for Serena to have provided an answer instead of running out the door, spoke volumes.

"I can't believe S didn't call me!" Blair pouted.

"We were very thoroughly celebrating, and I insisted that she let me tell you," Carter explained. "I wanted to say thank you for believing in second chances, and thinking I could make her happy. I promise, I won't let you regret helping me."

Her eyes welled up, as a tear trickled down her cheek. _Serena_ was happy and in love!

Carter raised a hand, and wiped the tear with his thumb. He tipped her face up by her chin. Just as he was about to speak, an angry growl interrupted.

"Take your fucking hands off of her, Baizen!"

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.

.

The fury and anger that flooded Chuck in that moment, was an out-of-body experience. It had been enough that he had sat for the past twenty odd minutes or so ignoring Henry, Greg Mercer and Marshall Ward. When he had sat back in his chair, while plates from their first course were being cleared, he had glanced around the restaurant. He watched in strange fascination as Blair sat down in the Champagne Lounge less than half a room away from him. Chuck's heart had skipped a beat at the thought that she might be waiting for him—arriving at his meeting to entice him into cutting his business agenda short. And he was beyond tempted to walk out and let Henry handle the entire thing—he'd have to talk to Blair about toying with him during business hours, _later_.

But the moment Carter Baizen had arrived and put his hands all over Blair, Chuck had been seething. It might have been tolerable if Blair hadn't looked so _happy_. The excitement that had crossed her face, coupled with the puppy dog look of love on Carter's face had him sick to his stomach. Until the moment he had reached the pair—he hadn't even realized he had gotten up and left his business meeting without a word.

Carter smiled smugly at him, as he slowly removed his hand from Blair's face. Instead of stepping back, he threw a too familiar arm around Blair's shoulders. "Bass, it's been awhile."

Blair gasped as she stared up at him in surprise. And though he could sense her innocence in this scenario, the possessive asshole in him could just _not_ let this go.

Chuck gritted his teeth before hissing, "I believe I asked you to stop touching her."

"Oh? Do you mean, Blair?" Carter egged him on.

"Carter—" Blair pleaded.

"Stay out of this!" Both men snapped at her.

"She doesn't belong to you," Chuck snapped.

"And she belongs to you?" Carter scoffed. "There's no ring on her finger and if you think branding her with your mark is going to stop anyone from approaching her, you're wrong."

"I'm certain Blair would disagree with you, the amount of _pleasure_ she received as I made those marks, would astound you," he retorted.

"God, Bass, why don't you just lift your leg and pee on her, if you're that desperate to keep her to yourself. In fact, why don't you keep her on a leash—oh wait, that's _you_. Seems like you're more her bitch than she is yours."

Just as Chuck was about to reach over and strangle him, Blair stood up abruptly, placing one hand on his chest, as the other touched his cheek. It shouldn't have been so easy, but the simple gesture, stopped him in his track.

"Carter," Blair shrilled. "You've done enough, thank you."

The arrogant glimmer of satisfaction that flickered in Carter's blue eyes was almost too much for Chuck. If Blair hadn't been standing in between them, he would have slammed Carter's head into the bar.

"It appears that I've overstayed my welcome," Carter laughed. He reached in his pocket and threw a couple of hundred dollar bills on the counter for the bartender.

Chuck watched as Carter attempted to kiss Blair on the cheek, but she jerked back.

"Blair, I'll call you later," Carter said, in a softer tone. Anger prickled once again when Chuck saw her nod in affirmation.

Then Carter turned towards him, and issued a warning. "If I were you, Bass, I'd lock her down, and quickly—while she still wants you. She's far too amazing for you, and one day she'll realize it."

With those parting words, Carter slipped his hands in his pockets and sauntered off.

He heard her breathe a sigh of relief, as she spoke his name, "Chuck—"

"What were you doing with him, Blair?" The irrational jealousy still thrummed beneath the surface.

"He called me and asked me to drinks—I had no idea that you business meeting was here," she said apologetically.

"Is this another one of your games? I can't have your interfering with my work! Torment me all you want after hours—but this is crossing the line!" He continued to fume—so much that he didn't see the dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Oh, so I'm an inconvenience?" Blair spat out at him. "I'm not the one who went all Tarzan on _my friend_. I wasn't in danger, and I didn't ask for your assistance. I didn't even know you were here."

She gave him her haughtiest glare and pushed away from him. Blair snatched her purse and spun around from him as she headed towards the restrooms.

It took him less than a second to realize how ridiculous he had just been, and he followed in hot pursuit.

"Blair," he begged. "Blair, I'm sorry."

"Yes, I seem to be hearing a lot of that lately," she said coolly. Ignoring him, she walked into the woman's restroom without so much as a glance back.

He paced outside the door for a minute. When two women walked out, he jumped out of their way, but saw that it appeared to be vacant except for Blair. Without hesitation, he walked in, locking the door behind him.

She was standing in front of the vanity, reapplying her lipstick. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his head into the crook of her neck.

"Chuck—"

He placed soft kisses on her collarbone, and slowly up to her ear. "You are never an inconvenience, you are always a privilege. I am an irrational, jealous asshole, and Baizen brings out the worst me."

He saw her eyes close in the mirror, as she allowed him to continue with his groveling.

"Go on."

Grabbing her by the waist, he turned her around and sat her on the vanity, so he could meet her eye. Blair tugged him by his necktie closer, and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her back touched the wall, as he leaned in closer, trapping her.

"I don't like seeing men paw at you—especially not when I have a special date planned for us later tonight. Not when I'm so desperate to see you that I already cut the meeting down by an hour."

"And you plan on making this up to me, how?"

"By walking out of this restaurant with you right now, and not even stopping back at my table."

"How important is this meeting?" She asked curiously.

"I've been chasing this company down relentlessly for the past two years, and they've finally agreed to sit down and discuss terms. They're the only major company that eluded Bart," Chuck confessed.

"Then perhaps, I might forgive you for this transgression."

"Thank you," he said solemnly.

Chuck stepped away from her and helped her off the vanity counter. Lacing his fingers with hers, he unlocked the women's bathroom door and guided her out of the restaurant and into his awaiting limo.

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Henry sat smirking at the table as she watched Chuck lead Blair out of the restaurant. He had not faltered one moment as he walked by their table, hadn't so much as spared a glance. She was proud of him. He was relearning that Blair would always take precedent over everything. But being the good big sister she was, she would un-ruffle the feathers of the gentlemen that sat at the table with her.

"Is Chuck really walking out on us to chase after some woman?" Greg Mercer asked, astounded.

"So all that nonsense about settling down with _you_," Marshall Ward directed pointedly at her. "That was just a lie? Honey, you need to try harder to keep a man happy. Otherwise, women like her will lead him astray."

"My relationship with Chuck is strictly professional, it always has been. You'll have to excuse him, there are other negotiations he's currently involved with," Henry said tightly. Her hand itched to slap both of the men. Not only had they been completely sexist—the insinuation that Blair was nothing more than a woman for the night, was an insult she could hardly stomach.

"Tell your boss, that we'll provide a list of our own terms, and get back to you in the next week," Greg said arrogantly.

Marshall agreed with a grunt.

As the men began to push back their chairs to stand up, Henry finally spoke again.

"If you don't agree in principle on the terms with me before you leave this restaurant, the offer will be off the table. Bass Industries doesn't _need_ your company, but _you_ need us," she informed them icily.

Greg and Marshall looked at each other in conference before sitting back down and staring at her in irritation.

"Off the record—that _woman_ you were referring to is Blair Waldorf, the woman that Chuck is negotiating with to become _his wife_. I'd think about that the next time you speak so lightly about the future Mrs. Bass. Especially if your future wives, ex-wives, mistresses and girlfriends ever want to be accepted in Upper East Side society."

The shock and discomfort on their face was evidence enough that the discussion was closed.

With a cool smile, Henry continued, "Now, where were we? I believe we were talking about the lease…"

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.

Chuck paused outside the limo to make a quick phone call before stepping in. Once inside, he reached for her hand, explaining that the call had to do with the surprise, as they were clearly ahead of schedule. Blair simply nodded, allowing the silence to overtake them. She was still a bit overwhelmed that he may have jeopardized an important business deal for her.

They pulled up to his home and he ushered her into the private elevator and selected the 'roof' as their destination. As they stood next to each other, he turned to her shyly. "Close your eyes, it's a surprise."

The boyish excitement in Chuck's eyes had Blair doing as he bade. And as the doors slid open, he gently placed his hands over her eyes, as he walked behind her, slowly guiding her out. All his steps were careful and methodical, and it took a minute or two, but finally he stopped. Lowering his hands, he whispered in her ear, "Surprise."

She opened her eyes to a transformed rooftop into an outdoor movie theater of sorts. There was a gigantic movie screen on one end. A large, sturdy hammock hung at the other side. There were over a hundred paper lanterns on the floor—adding a romantic hue, a small table with refreshments, and of course, an old-fashioned projector.

"During the girls night I planned for you, while we were texting," Chuck said ruefully. "I realized that we were missing out on _Chuck and Blair going to the movies_. So, I tried to arrange it for afterwards, but you got home so late—"

"It's perfect!" Blair interrupted. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek. "This is exactly how it should be."

She curled up onto the hammock, while he flicked on the projector. Chuck slid onto the hammock, fitting his body to hers. Her hand twined with his hand that rested on her hip. Funny Face soon flickered onto the screen.

He pressed his lips to her shoulder before he murmured in her ear, "I still picture you in that exquisite dress."

And silently, they actually watched the movie.

Blair appreciated the grandeur of the older projector, the clicking noises and the slightly scratch soundtrack playing like a familiar tune in her ear. She didn't know how he managed to pick out all the small details of the things she relished. When the movie finished, and the projector light had finally shut off, they remained motionless for what felt like hours.

The air was still warm, and there wasn't even a hint of a breeze, but Blair did not want to move a single muscle. She was absurdly comfortable and a bit giddy. As Blair considered bringing up what had happened earlier, Chuck spoke first.

"Call Carter tomorrow and cancel the rest of your plans with him. Whatever you're doing, wherever he was planning on taking you—let me do it instead."

"Chuck, you don't have—" she started.

"I _want_ to spend time with you and Carter's just a very good excuse. You're making it impossible for me stay away. I would rather spend hours on the phone listening to you lecture me about the difference between two identical shades of nail polish, than do anything else in the world."

"That qualifies as a romantic statement, Bass. Has the tide turned? Are you done with being a martyr for no cause?" Blair couldn't help but ask.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "But I do know that when I'm around you, you make me wish that I was selfish enough to just be with you, instead of wanting to give you the world."

Blair opened her mouth to object, but then stopped. Pushing the issue at this moment, would only spoil the evening with more talk or an argument. She would settle for the answer he provided, comforted by the implication that he was not as steadfast as he had been two weeks ago. So instead, she traced patterns on his hand that held hers, and closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

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When Blair woke up, she found herself in a very comfortable, but unfamiliar bed. As she stretched her body and yawned, she turned to find Chuck staring at her intently. She shifted closer to him, suddenly aware that all she wore was one of his silken pajama shirts.

Placing her hand on his cheek, she whispered, "Make love to me."

That was invitation enough, as Chuck rolled on top of her without hesitation. He kissed her softly. Holding her face in his hands, he tenderly said, "I love you, Blair."

"I love you, too," she returned with a smile.

She could feel his smile as he kissed her again. And then he made love to her slowly and exquisitely, until the passion between them made it desperate and frantic. When they collapsed against each other, unable to speak or move, they knew that they were finally home.

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Blair woke up to an empty bed that was still warm from Chuck having recently gotten up. She sat up slowly, tucking the sheet around her naked body. Leaning against the headboard, she looked around. Chuck's bedroom was enormous—easily twice the size of her bedroom at the Waldorf penthouse. She was surprised to find that his bedroom was much like the rest of the house—sparsely furnished. There was an elaborately crafted, mahogany wardrobe that somehow seemed out of place—and she couldn't quite place her finger on the why. Before she could get up and explore both it and the room more closely, a door opened.

"You're awake," Chuck said as he entered the room, carrying a breakfast tray. From the look of him, he appeared to have been up for some time. He was already dressed in a shirt and tie, his hair combed perfectly.

"Is that for me?" She asked coyly, thrilled at the gesture of domesticity.

He placed the tray in front of her as he leaned over and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

"Of course it's for you. I wouldn't want to have my first houseguest complain of my lack of hospitality," he answered.

"First?" Blair asked with a raised brow.

"Only."

A smug look crossed Blair's face. The lack of embarrassment on Chuck's face thrilled her even more.

She sighed, as she reached over and tugged on his tie. "It's too bad you're already dressed. There's something else I want for breakfast, and it's not on the tray."

Chuck looked at her apologetically, "I have a meeting with the senior partners in an hour."

Blair pouted. "I'll have to lodge my complaints with the owner."

"The owner is devastated that he couldn't cater to your every whim, and plans to make it up to you by taking you to the opera tonight—box seats," he attempted to coax her.

"Am I allowed to invite guests?"

She noted the flash of disappointment that crossed his face.

"Whatever you want," he said.

"Great, I'll call Carter, after you leave."

"Blair," Chuck hissed.

"It'll be perfect." She ignored him as she continued on. "Serena loves the opera almost as much as I do. Plus, I have yet to see the ring. You do think Carter was smart enough to propose to her with a ring, don't you?"

He stared at her, mouth agape and in shock.

"Besides, I want to find out if they're eloping or if they're going to actually plan a wedding. I kind of think it'd be romantic if they just ran off and eloped—"

Chuck had removed the tray and set it on the floor as she spoke. Pinning her down against the bed, he muttered, "You are a minx. A very sexy and troublesome minx. But a minx, nonetheless."

Blair's laughter was the last discernible sound that was made.

And Chuck was late to his meeting—by about an hour.

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_**tbc**_

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A/N: I apologize for the delay of this chapter, Presidents weekend was a bit more of a party than I had anticipated—long recovery week. Next chapter will be quite a bit longer, and a bit angsty. And no, Chuck and Blair will not be 'breaking up'. For all intents and purposes, they'll be together for the rest of the story—there's just still some behavioral and self-doubt issues that need to be addressed. Because, really, when have Chuck and Blair ever made it _easy_?

For my favorite beta in the world, Noirreigne, who is a wonderful cheerleader, even if she won't do cartwheels and chant actual cheers!

Thank you to all the readers and reviewers, I hope you're still being entertained with my story. I appreciate the time you spend reading.

The GG cone of silence is still going strong—and I am now thinking about waiting until the season is over before I watch.

Also, if you haven't checked out the beautiful fanart, the lovely and talented signaturescarf made for chapter 14, the link is on my profile page.


	17. all Chucked up

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.

* * *

**

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"Why does it feel like I've barely heard from you in the past couple of weeks?" Nate asked as he took a sip of scotch. Sitting in Chuck's office sharing a drink was the only way he had managed to get a hold of is suddenly way-too-busy friend.

"I've been very busy," his dark haired companion answered with a sly smile. "And enjoying every delectable moment of it."

Nate rolled his eyes at the unsubtle implication of his friend's activities. But he had to admit, even though it was nine o'clock on a Wednesday evening, and Chuck appeared to be buried deep in his work—he was almost radiant. There seemed to be a hint of joy in every movement and gesture he made. So this was what Chuck was like euphoric, he mused.

And if only to further illustrate the point, Chuck's phone rang at that exact moment. With a sheepish smile, Chuck held up his hand as he stood up from behind his desk, to take the call.

"_Blair," Chuck drawled softly._

"—"

"_You're not interrupting. Actually Nate dropped by, we're having a drink."_

"—"

"_I have a couple hours worth of work I should probably get done, unless you want me to stop by?"_

"—"

"_It'll be the second night in a row I won't get to see you." Chuck grumbled. _

"—"

"_No, don't stop by the office, we've talked about this."_

"—"

"_Let me just get rid of Nate, and I'll come right over. Work can wait. I miss you."_

"—"

_Chuck sighed. "I love you, too. I'll call you when I get home."_

"Sorry about that," Chuck said apologetically.

Nate just stared at him. Did he just hear what he thought he heard? "Dude, when did Blair finally agree to take you back and start dating you?"

"We're not dating," Chuck lamely attempted to object.

"You guys sound practically married! Congratulations, man! I'm glad the past few weeks of your dogged determination to sweep her off her feet worked! You finally saw the light of day!" Nate said as he pounded his friend on the back.

Chuck winced. "I haven't changed my mind…_yet_."

"Huh? Then what the fuck was that demonstration of schmoopy 'I love you, too' crap?" Nate scoffed.

Chuck looked down at his hands.

"You're serious. You actually _aren't_ back together with her!"

"No." The syllable barely qualified as a whisper.

"So correct me if I'm wrong…but basically you've spent the last two weeks making it impossible for Blair _not_ to fall more in love with you…but you aren't sure you want to be with her?" Nate asked confusedly.

"Of course I want to be with her!" Chuck hissed in frustration.

"What's the problem then? Just be with her, I mean, clearly that's what you both want."

"It's not that simple."

"Are you high? If so, please share, because that must be amazing shit you're on to miss the simplicity of this situation. You love her, she loves you. Be together. That's pretty fucking simple," Nate said. "You don't have to be a genius to figure that one out."

"When you put it like that, of course it sounds easy," Chuck snapped. "But step more closely to the picture, and the lines start getting blurred."

"Why are you complicating things?"

"I'm _not_. All I'm trying to do, is make certain that the woman I love, doesn't get hurt—especially by me. Let's not pretend that my past doesn't speak for itself."

"And making gestures like walking out of business deals to have a movie date is an example of you keeping your distance? Flying in well-renowned chefs from all over the world to be your personal chef for the night is screaming I don't think we should be together? No, wait—it must be renting out the observation deck at the Empire States Building and hiring a jazz combo to serenade you while you dance the night away that clearly states that you're poisonous to her, right? I'm amazed you managed this long without whisking her out of the country for a weekend getaway!" Nate yelled in exasperation.

Chuck was stunned. When his actions were couched in those terms, it did seem entirely counterproductive.

"How can you expect her to move on when the person that's showering all this love and attention is the only person she wants it from?"

Chuck found himself speechless again. Of course that was _not_ his intent. And he didn't think there was a way for him to explain it to Nate without sounding like a complete moron. How could he just change his mind on something he felt so strongly about—not hurting Blair? Yet, the past few weeks clearly demonstrated the impossibility of him staying away from her. He had been wrestling with his decision ever since the night of his birthday dinner. It wasn't that Chuck wasn't willing to let go of his pride and grovel for another chance—it was that letting go of his pride required him to be weak. And being weak was something he could not stomach. Being weak and selfish was what had gotten him into this situation with Blair all those years ago. He just couldn't reconcile the fact that changing his mind about the matter made him untrustworthy—as though Blair could not take him at his word.

"You can't just toy with her and keep rejecting her. You can't think that it won't stick at some point. And if this is your idea of rejection, than I we need to have your head examined."

"It's not _her_ who's being rejected," Chuck whispered. He shook his head. "Who wouldn't want her?"

Silence stretched into minutes as both men sipped their scotch and refused to make eye contact.

Nate cleared his throat. "I hate to be the asshole here, but you know what you have to do, don't you? If you want this finished, you know what will end this."

Blue eyes met brown, and there was a silent communication.

Finally Chuck broke. Angrily he spat, "For the last time, it's _not_ about what _I_ want. And do you really think that I think so little of her, that I would throw some other woman in her face? _Been there, done that,_ _I'm still contaminated_. Yes, I think she would be better off without me in her life, but I'm not trying to destroy her in the process of proving that point. It's safe to say, I've been the cause of enough humiliation in her life."

"And you're _certain_ that she can't be happy with you?"

"I don't know anymore." He buried his head in his hands. "Whenever I'm around her, I can't think of anything other than how happy I am because I'm making _her_ happy. But then I inevitably wonder how long this will last before I fuck things up, again."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you need to decide, and you need to decide soon. Consulting her on this, would be highly advisable," Nate observed astutely.

"That's the thing, I can't think when I'm around her. I'm too busy _feeling. _I start convincing myself that it will be ok, that I'll never hurt her again. But I'm _me_. Why do you think I won't let her come to the office? It's the only part of my world she hasn't permeated. When she leaves me, this is all I'll have left," he confessed.

"It's a losing battle, Chuck. Just talk to her."

"Maybe I just need a couple of days without her. I need to clear my head," Chuck said stubbornly.

"It's your funeral, man," Nate said with a sigh.

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Blair hummed to herself as she traipsed down the hallway, the sound of her heels click-clacking against the stained hardwood floors. She sent a silent thank you to Henry as she proceeded towards Chuck's office. Blair hoped Henry wouldn't be upset that she needed to make a detour before meeting her for lunch. It hadn't come as a _complete_ surprise that Chuck had banned her from seeing him in the Bass Industries building, but silly Chuck, he had neglected to ban her outright. Blair Waldorf was only on _Chuck's_ 'do not enter' list, but she could visit Henry at her office on the same floor as his, to her heart's content.

She still couldn't understand what his fixation was to keep her away from his office at BI. Over the past couple of weeks he had been absolutely heavenly, except on this one topic. He simply would not allow her to meet him for lunch or drop by to say hello. On the occasions they _had_ met for lunch, he usually sent a car and met her at the restaurant. It had frustrated her enough that she managed to make him late for work three additional times since that first morning in retaliation.

But last night when they spoke, and Nate had been at the office, Blair got worried. She didn't like it when Chuck did that silly little thing called 'thinking'. And strangely, Nate knew how to push both Chuck and her buttons, a bit too well. Why couldn't Nate just be pretty and keep his mouth shut, especially since that was what he did best? A sigh escaped her—Archibald would not be coming off his double secret probation any time soon if he kept this up. Chuck's abrupt phone call this morning announcing that he was too busy at work to see her for the next few days, was going to be attributed to the work of her former white knight—intentional or not. Chuck had been entirely too focused on her to just decide this out of the blue.

Blair smiled as she thought about the past couple of weeks—she couldn't believe she had forgotten the heady intoxication of being Chuck's entire focus. She felt as though she were floating on air, and had actually pinched herself once or twice upon realizing that this wasn't a fairy tale or pictures in her scrapbook—it was her life, _with Chuck_. With the exception of the night on the observation deck at the Empire State Building, which still caused her heart to flutter rapidly at the mere thought, Blair had to admit she was exhausted. While she _loved_ being wooed and Chuck was sparing no expense, she craved the mundane everyday things more—like an impromptu lunch with her boyfriend.

She had to force herself to be amused by all of this, otherwise Blair was certain that she would strangle Chuck with her bare hands, and then _who_ was she supposed to marry?

Blair gave a dismissive nod to the good-looking male that sat a few feet from Chuck's office. Serena was _right_, he certainly was a dish. How had she not remembered him from last time? As she strode towards the door, he suddenly stood up and wedged himself between her and her destination.

"Excuse me, but you're in my way," Blair sneered. "Do you even know who I am?"

"Yes, Miss Waldorf, I'm more than aware of who you are," Sam answered. "I have strict instructions from Mr. Bass that you are not allowed on the premises."

"And who are you?" She asked as she crossed her arms and glared at him.

"I'm Sam, Miss Waldorf. I'm Mr. Bass' personal assistant, Sam Townsend," he said with a forced smile.

"Well, Sam Townsend," Blair said as she poked him in the chest. "It seems that today is the day for lessons. I am loathe to have to repeat myself, so pay attention—take notes, if you have to. You will _not_, now or anytime in the future, _ever_ bar me access from Chuck's office, is that clear? If you even think of thinking of crossing me, I will make certain that the first thing on my to-do list, the day after I become Mrs. Chuck Bass, will be to _fire you_! Are we clear?"

Without waiting for a response, she slammed the heel of her four-inch stiletto into his foot before shoving him out of her way. As she walked towards the door to Chuck's office, she could hear Sam howling in pain. She shook her head as she entered, when would these people learn?

"Blair!" Chuck looked up. "What are you doing here?"

She could feel his unease as she locked the door behind her, dropping her purse onto the floor. With an innocent smile, she fiddled with the belt of her trench coat. "Visiting you, of course. But, darling, we are going to have to get you some better staff."

"We discussed this, Blair," he said tightly. "Work is off limits."

"If you insist on talking, I'd prefer we talk after," she said flippantly.

Blair began to unbutton her coat as she walked towards Chuck, who was sitting at his desk. She could see him swallow hard as she stood in front of him. She slipped her coat off and leaned back on his desk, wearing nothing but her black lace La Perla bra and matching garters.

"So, this is your desk?" Blair asked cheekily.

He looked at her with so much lust and equal amounts of frustration, she wondered how he would react if she burst out into laughter. But she had no time to ponder that thought, because he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her senseless—driving out any rational thought from her mind.

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Henry walked towards a red-faced Sam, sitting uncomfortably at his desk. Henry stood in front of him for a moment, when a high-pitched _Chuck_ was heard from the other side of the office door. Smirking at Sam, she said, "Well, I guess Blair and I will _not_ be having lunch today."

Sam sighed.

"What?"

"Is she really his fiancée?" He asked timidly.

"She will be, once Chuck stops acting like a complete imbecile," Henry confirmed.

Sam fidgeted.

"What?" she prodded again.

"Do you think she'll be a regular visitor?"

Henry couldn't stop laughing. "You are such a prude! Maybe you should ask Blair, when she leaves the office, how often she plans on visiting Chuck."

Sam shook his head wildly. "She's already threatened to fire me if I ever got in her way."

She shot him a sympathetic smile, "You've been here, for how long? Two years, right?"

He nodded.

"And during that time, how many times has Chuck called in sick, cleared his schedule, missed meetings or been late, with no explanation?"

"Never."

"And in the past two months, how often would you say that occurred?" Henry prodded.

"With increasingly regularity," Sam confirmed. His eyes widened in recognition.

"Safe to say, keeping Blair happy is the secret to keeping your boss happy, _regardless_ of what he tells you."

He smiled gratefully at Henry, "Duly noted."

"C'mon, let's get out of here. I'll treat you to lunch for having to sit outside of _that_," she said wrinkling her nose. Her eyes gestured towards the moans escaping through the cracks of the office doors.

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Her chest was pounding and her body was glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Her eyes were still closed, when she felt Chuck lapping away at her neck.

"Again," she managed to mumble.

"Ten minutes," he groaned back. "Just give me ten minutes."

She nodded in agreement, as she ran a hand through Chuck's hair. The beads of perspiration moistened her fingertips, as she clutched his head closer to her neck. This unplanned visit may have been her best idea yet.

Chuck was still inside her from their second round, and as the minutes trickled by, she could feel him hardening inside of her. There had been no softness or sweetness in their couplings—it had just been _hot_. They had been rough and desperate and sloppy, which just served to arouse them even more. _This_ was part of the everyday activity she missed. Ever since their first date, Chuck had been so concerned with maximizing and orchestrating every morsel of enjoyment, he had forgotten to fully let go.

There must have been something about fucking her on his office deck that made him insatiable. She couldn't resist asking him, "So does this qualify as christening your workplace?"

Instead of responding, he bit her shoulder and slammed into her, over and over again. It was even harder and more frantic than it had been before, and the new sets of scratches down his back was evidence enough of her satisfaction.

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"Call me later?" Blair asked as she gave him another lingering kiss.

Chuck had to stop himself from pulling her back down onto his lap. They had been going at it for almost three hours, and it had done nothing to slake his lust for her. If anything, pondering a self-imposed time away from Blair's company seemed to increase his need for her. He pried his fingers away from her, as she tightened the belt on her jacket.

He nodded in agreement to her question.

She unlocked the door and threw one last look over her shoulder at him and winked. And then she was gone.

He ran a hand through his clearly disheveled hair and let out a grunt of frustration. What had just happened here? His desk—no, his _office_ looked like a tornado had run through it and there was a thick aroma of sex in the air. Chuck wondered if he had missed any conference calls or appointments due to the exquisite interlude that had just taken place.

His indecision about their predicament had turned Blair into a drug for him, and he was allowing her to overtake every last aspect of his life. Even now, all he could see was her naked body sprawled out across his desk as he licked every last inch of her. It had eclipsed any workplace fantasy he had over the years. Chuck had not been mistaken in wanting to keep her out of this office. Blair was now permanently etched into the landscape of his business world.

He stood up and glanced down at his unbuttoned shirt and wrinkled slacks. He didn't even want to know the state of his hair. Wordlessly he walked into the full bathroom, shrugged off his clothes and stepped into the shower. The stinging burns from Blair's fresh scratches on his back brought an unconscious smile to his face. They also served as a reminder of Nathaniel's words last night—he needed to decide, and he needed to decide soon.

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Chuck was straightening his tie in the mirror, when Sam's firm knock was heard at the door. His eyes latched onto his cufflinks reflecting back at him. His cheeks flushed in a mixture of joy and embarrassment at how he had been unable to resist wearing them every single day since Blair had placed them on his cuffs, herself. Chuck loved the sense of ownership it instilled, that even though he was wearing her heart on his sleeve—it was clear that she owned every last inch of him.

The knock sounded again.

"Come in."

Sam walked in, and Chuck saw his eyes widen at the disarray of his office. He couldn't help but feel the masculine swell of pride at his sexual prowess on display all over the room.

"You'll have to call for custodial to come in and straighten up," Chuck ordered.

"Yes, sir."

"What's on my calendar for the rest of today and tomorrow?"

"You have the follow up meeting with Mercer and Ward tonight. But tomorrow, you have nothing firmly planned—just a conference call to Tokyo that can be rescheduled for next week if you'd like?"

"Where's the meeting tonight?"

"Butter."

Chuck snorted. "Change it. Let's have a catered meal here, instead. And reschedule the conference call to Tuesday."

"As you wish," Sam said. "Anything else?"

"We'll have to discuss your inability to follow my instructions next week. I'm taking tomorrow off, and I won't be back in until Monday."

"Your instructions?" Sam asked confusedly.

"I believe I told you that Blair Waldorf was not allowed on the premises," he said icily.

"But, sir—"

"You do understand what that means, don't you?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bass, but you didn't tell me to ban her from the building, just to make sure she couldn't get in to see you. She told security she was here to meet Henry for lunch, and since your office is on the same floor…" Sam trailed off.

Chuck laughed. Blair was far too clever for him, especially since Henry was aiding her cause. He couldn't believe that he had overlooked that pertinent detail.

"And I _did_ try to stop her, but she attacked me—"

"You're telling me that a ninety-five pound woman, managed to get the better of you, physically?" Chuck asked in disbelief.

"She slammed her heel on my toe! It broke skin and I was bleeding! Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" Sam argued.

"You have no idea how familiar I am with that particular move of hers," Chuck murmured, a reminiscent smile played on his lips. Blair always did have a way with her foot.

Shaking his head, he looked at Sam sharply. "This is the last time I'll let this go. Make no mistake, if Blair shows up in my office again, you'll be seeking new employment opportunities. Call the concierge service at my building and make sure I have enough food and supplies to last me through the weekend. Let the front desk know that I am not receiving visitors, so they shouldn't bother to buzz me. If anyone should ask either at my home or here, I'm out of town for a pitch—tell them Boston. Now, is not the time for you to debate which alliance is most valuable in furthering your career. Do not breathe a word to Henry about this—tell _no one_. Is that understood?"

Sam nodded dutifully.

"Now call custodial and have them deal with this first, I'll be in the conference room down the hall," Chuck said.

As Sam watched him walk away, Henry's words from earlier rang through his head. For someone who was supposed to be upset that Blair Waldorf had breached his perimeter, Chuck seemed more bark than bite. He walked to his desk and called for the cleaners to come up and quickly made arrangements for the conference call to be shifted and dinner to be delivered. But as Sam sat there, he sensed that if he didn't act, there would be hell to pay. And quite frankly, while he feared and respected Chuck, he was terrified of Blair Waldorf.

If Chuck had really wanted to go into hiding, he would have taken care of the arrangements himself, wouldn't he? And nowoman_, _or person even, had ever managed to dissuade Chuck Bass from his agenda, as Blair seemed to have done effortlessly. In fact, other than Henry and Serena, Sam couldn't think of a single woman who had ever visited him. He remembered being surprised, frankly, at the complete un-lothario-like behavior his employer displayed. Sam had been almost disappointed that the legendary playboy was really just a hard-working businessman. And he didn't understand how anyone could ever _buy_ the spin that Henry and Chuck were in a relationship, they had absolutely no spark, other than one that resembled a sibling-like one.

Suddenly, he remembered the various shipments that had arrived throughout the past two years and had been increasing in the past six months since Chuck had moved into his new residence. Even though Chuck had never asked him to do more than confirm with the various companies that the items were on the way, the vendors were always more than happy to discuss the particular item that Mr. Bass had commissioned. The designers he regularly ordered from were always quick to inquire if the lady in question had found the last gift to her liking. He knew without a doubt that those had not been gifts for Henry, which led him to only one possible conclusion.

Sam counted to ten before he pulled up her contact information on his computer and dialed her number from his phone.

"Miss Waldorf? This is Sam from Chuck Bass' office. I believe there's some information you might be interested in hearing…"

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It felt like déjà vu, as Blair stood outside Chuck's penthouse door. Clutched in her hand was Henry's key to the house. When Sam had called her and debriefed her on Chuck's current plan of attack, she had reacted on impulse and hadn't stopped to think. Blair had immediately called Henry to find out if she would call her as the meeting was ending. It would enable her to blindside Chuck and catch him before he entered his fortress of solitude. The last thing she had expected was Henry to offer her a copy of the key to Chuck's house. She hadn't even gotten home yet to wash off the evidence of their lustful afternoon, or to change _into_ any clothes for that matter,before she had had to turn around to meet Henry for the exchange.

Now she stood in front of the door and was debating if this was the right thing to do. As she flipped the key card in her hand—she had the overwhelming urge to burst into tears. The highs and lows of the past couple of months were catching up to her. Blair slid to the floor and rested her head against the wall. Why did it have to be so hard between them? She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. But that was the problem—it _wasn't_ so hard between them, it was their past that was tripping up their future. She had stopped keeping count a long time ago about who had hurt who the most—because honestly, they had both hurt each other. If she was unwilling to see this to the end, _she_ should walk away now. Chuck had waited almost five years for another chance, how could she just throw in the towel after a couple of months, especially when she barely had any resistance.

With renewed determination, she stood up. Blair Waldorf never quit at anything in her life—and there was no point in starting now. She slipped the card into the door and let herself in. Walking down the hallway, she caught a glimpse of her thoroughly ravished self in the mirror—she definitely needed to bathe. Her initial thought was to wear him down by seduction, but the truth of the matter was that sex had never been their problem—sex was easy. This mission would require a completely different tact altogether. Blair pulled out her phone and quickly texted Dorota a list of supplies she was going to need before stepping in to her long overdue shower.

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Chuck stepped out of the limo and dismissed Arthur for the weekend. He found himself pausing before entering his private elevator. While his business meeting had been quite the success, and Mercer and Ward had agreed to all his stipulations—he kept thinking of their words that Henry had parroted back to him. Chuck also knew that there had to have been more said than what she had been willing to tell him—but his ire had been raised enough. Part of him wanted to kill the deal in Blair's honor, but he'd settle for vengeance in another way. He had managed to keep a vacant smile on his face and suppressed his desire for violent retribution. He would separate the assets of their company, and then sell off the rest, instead of absorbing their company into BI as was alluded to. After all, none of it was in writing, and he had only promised to 'do his best to keep their company intact', and that was the best he was going to be able to do.

He pulled out his phone to call Blair. He had promised he would call her later and the niggling suspicion that he was doing the wrong thing by holing up in his penthouse kept increasing. Perhaps once he spoke to her, Chuck would know what to do. His relationship with her had always been instinctual, and maybe overthinking things was a disservice.

The first time he called it went directly to voicemail. Chuck looked at his phone quizzically before shaking his head as he dialed her again. Voicemail. The third time it happened, he felt ill at ease. But for all he knew, she might be taking a step back as well. Disappointed that he would be unable to speak to her, he stepped into his elevator. He would try again in a couple of hours.

As he stepped out and into his home, three simultaneous thoughts entered his mind. One—the lights were on, two—the scent of a freshly baked pumpkin pie wafted in the air, and three—someone was in his house.

Setting down his briefcase, he walked down the hall slowly—checking each room he passed. When he finally reached the kitchen, it was a welcome sight—Blair Waldorf wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts, legs bare and damp hair loosely knotted in a bun. She was facing away from him as she eyed the pie she had just baked, humming lightly to herself.

Before he could stop himself, he wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her neck.

"You're home," she breathed as she rested her hands above his.

"I'm home," he agreed.

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_**tbc

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A/N: You have _no_ idea how long this chapter was getting. I was scaring _myself_. Suffice to say, I thought this would be a reasonable place to pause. I will effort to update sooner, but as I'm running out of scenes and snippets I wrote earlier, the time between updates may increase by a couple of days. But the end is coming near…I am very tentatively saying about 3-4 more chapters. As for the angst, that's next chapter, blame my muse, he's running on overdrive right now, and it's his fault that the original chapter length spiraled out of control.

As always, for my favorite and only beta, Noirreigne, who needs to get more sleep and deserves it!

Thank you readers and reviewers who are still with me, I am indebted to you all for your encouragement!

Just a reminder, I haven't watched the show since 4x11, so could you please be mindful of my GG cone of silence when reviewing? I am still trying to avoid as much plot details and spoilers as possible, which is quite difficult as is.


	18. that thing i do

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.

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"Are we going to talk about it?" She asked lightly, as she fed him another bite of pumpkin pie.

His hand traced patterns on her inner left knee as he shrugged. He nudged her for another mouthful, and she complied.

"Do you want me here?"

Chuck was silent for a moment while he chewed slowly and then swallowed. He tipped her chin so that they made eye contact. "Always."

"But…?" She prodded.

"I'm struggling. Struggling with what I want and what I think is right for you."

"Have you considered asking _me_ what I want?" Blair asked while rolling her eyes. She took a bite of pie, only to catch Chuck growling at her. Again he gestured for another bite.

"I already know your answer, I'm Chuck Bass," he said arrogantly. "Of course you want me."

With a huff, Blair pinched his ear—hard, as she attempted to get up from his lap. Despite hissing in pain, he managed to keep her from escaping his hold by clutching her to him.

"But you're Blair Waldorf, which means I want you more," he placated. He gently nibbled on her earlobe. "And you know how much I enjoy your pie."

She begrudgingly fed him another bite. "And…?"

"And…I would like nothing more than for you to stay here with me over the next three days so I can figure this out," he said softly. "I don't know if there's anything you can say or do, but just being with you helps."

She rested her cheek on his chest. "Then I'll stay."

He kissed the top of her head. "Thank you."

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Blair glared at him from across the table. "You're cheating!"

"Am not," he scoffed. "You can't even prove it!"

"Chuck! You're _only_ allowed _seven_ letters to start! There are eleven letters in 'mellifluous'!"

"Don't be such a stickler for technicalities," he said airily.

"It's _Scrabble_, not some open-ended essay question," Blair huffed.

He leaned over the table to kiss her, but she turned her head sharply and he got a mouthful of hair. Chuck tugged on a curl. "Blair, I want to taste your sweetly flowing tongue."

His words only seemed to incite her more. She crossed her arms and if looks could kill, he would be dead.

She stood up and stalked out of the room.

"Don't sulk, Blair! It's unbecoming," he called after her. A smirk crossed his face as he rearranged the tiles on the game board.

He sat back, amused with his work, when suddenly he felt the thud of a pillow hit him on the back of his head. Chuck turned around and felt another whack, and then a quick succession of a few more. When he finally realized what was happening, he managed to grab the pillow away from Blair.

"Seriously Waldorf, this is the best you got?" He challenged as he menacingly walked towards her.

"I'm not scared of you, Bass!" She bravely threw out as she slowly backed away from him and headed towards his bedroom.

He flicked the pillow at her, missing her by _thismuch_, and Blair squealed while jumping back. With a sense of purpose he advanced towards her. "I hope you enjoyed the few licks you got in, because payback's a bitch."

Blair hesitated for one second before sprinting down the hall and slamming his bedroom door shut.

His laughter echoed down the hallway, as he took his time reaching the door. Chuck knew that Blair wouldn't lock the bedroom door. He couldn't wait to see how she planned on arming herself against him, especially when she knew he could physically overpower her.

Slowly he turned the doorknob, kicking his door open while he stood safely in the hallway. Three decorative pillows launched right past him.

He confidently walked into the room, and managed to duck as she threw the last of the throw pillows at his head. Blair had a pillow in each hand as she stood on his bed, bouncing back and forth like a boxer in the ring. She preemptively jabbed at him, landing a couple of blows.

Chuck circled his bed looking for the best angle to attack. He stepped back for a moment, forcing Blair to relax her stance, and dove straight for her legs falling on top of her. As he tackled her down he nipped playfully at her face. "You went down so easy, Waldorf."

"Only because I let you," she pouted. She continued to hit him with the pillows in her hands, but he easily deflected the blows and pinned her wrists above her head.

"If that's what you have to tell yourself to sleep at night," he murmured as he pressed kisses down her neck.

"You shouldn't have taunted me with an SAT word, if you won't tell me your score," Blair insisted. "I know Bart made you take it again, even if you were going to use the score you paid for."

He dipped his tongue in her ear and scraped his teeth on her lobe. "Is it that important for you to know my score?"

She stifled a moan before she breathlessly said, "Yes! You're the one who brought up the subject over an hour ago. You already know my score, why can't I know yours."

"2210."

"I didn't ask for you to tell me _my_ score," she snapped grumpily.

"I know," he said meaningfully.

"We scored the same?" she asked giddily. "Really?"

"Really," he mumbled as his mouth was focused on the patch of skin, below her jaw. "And if you don't believe me, I have a copy in my safe somewhere."

"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" She teased.

He released his grip on her wrists, so he could slip his hands beneath the shirt she was wearing, when her hands trapped his.

"Your sex privileges have been revoked," she told him with a smile.

"Very cute, Blair," Chuck said as he attempted to stroke her delicate skin.

She slapped at his hands. With a stern look on her face, she said, "You lied to me this morning and you were going to run away, that's two infractions, which translates into forty-eight hours of no sex."

"I wasn't running away!" He defended. "I was hiding, there's a difference."

"Minor technicality, Bass," Blair said with an arched brow.

"I tried calling you, _three times_, before I stepped into the house. It's not my fault that your phone was turned off," Chuck argued.

"Hmph."

"I could convince you to change your mind," he threatened.

"You could, but then I'd just leave."

"Blair!" Chuck exclaimed. "You're fighting dirty."

"You wouldn't have it any other way," she sing-songed.

"I'm a glutton for your punishment," he admitted.

She stood up and offered him her hand. He reached for it grouchily as he stood up. Before he could walk away, she tugged him down and kissed him. When he started to deepen the kiss she pulled away.

"Let's go finish our game of Scrabble. _No cheating_, this time," she admonished sternly.

"Fine. But I'm going to need something to drink then."

She nodded as they parted ways—Blair towards the coffee table and he towards the bar. As Chuck placed a glass on the counter, he heard her stamp her foot and yell his name in frustration. He smirked, she must have read the tiles he left on the scrabble board, _you know you love me_.

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It was the fourth morning in a row that Blair was served breakfast in bed. Come to think of it, every night she spent at his penthouse, she was treated to bedside service in the morning. She sipped her cappuccino as she cuddled next to Chuck while they read the paper. The weekend had been domestic bliss overload, and she never wanted it to end. The fact that both of them had shut off their cell phones only enhanced the stranded on a deserted island vibe.

After Chuck had managed to convince her to play strip Scrabble that first evening, they had fallen asleep snuggled next to each other. She had been woken up by way of orgasm the following morning with Chuck's mouth on her—it was becoming a ritual she was getting addicted to. Blair had wanted to scold him, but since he was the one being denied all sexual gratification—and without complaint, she hadn't had the heart to deprive him of that small pleasure.

Except for breakfast in bed, they had not adhered to any formal ritual or plan. Friday he had given her the full tour of his penthouse, and had even showed her the two floors beneath his that he had purchased with the possibility of creating a three-story palace. Blair had itched to ask him if that palace included the pitter-patter of little feet, but she already knew his answer. They had always planned on having at least two, if not three children.

When Chuck had gone into his office to show her the blueprints and several options of how to connect all three levels, they stumbled onto the topic of his minimal décor. He had flushed a shade of pink when he admitted that he had waited, hoping that a certain brunette would make the executive decisions, were he to be so lucky. They spent the entire day talking design and construction—at times veering off to BI business talk. At night he took her back onto the roof and danced with her all night, while the projector played old movies as a backdrop.

Saturday, he had pampered her with an hour-long Buntautuk massage. While she was in a state of relaxed bliss, he handed her the remaining birthday gifts that they had never gotten around to exchanging. Each gift had eclipsed the next, but the diamond choker was by far the winner. She had also given him his remaining presents that she had ordered Dorota to fetch for her Thursday evening. Somewhere during that very lazy Saturday was a bubble bath before they stretched out on the couch, with her head in his lap, as he poured through financials and she read George Sand. And instead of pouncing on her the moment after his sexual ban had been lifted, he simply held her as they drifted off to sleep.

Sunday, however, was a different story entirely. The only time they managed to get out of bed was for food or to use the facilities. When Blair spent almost an hour ensuring that Chuck would have matching bite marks that he had given her a couple of weeks ago, he had only half-heartedly protested with _you do realize I'm the CEO of a billion dollar company, right_? She had bit his chin in response, and so he said nothing and thoroughly enjoyed the labors of her work.

But Blair knew that in less than an hour, their vacation from reality would come to a close. The minute Chuck walked out the door, they would be back where they started—in limbo. She just didn't understand how he couldn't see how right they were together. As if sensing her thoughts, Chuck leaned over and brushed his lips against her. Their eyes met.

"We should talk," Chuck said slowly. "Later tonight."

"We could talk now," Blair suggested. "You know it's like a band-aid, if you yank it off quickly, you don't have to prolong the agony."

"How can I be serious when you're being adorable?" He chuckled.

"The conversation can be over in a matter of seconds," she contended. "I'll even help you find the words. Repeat after me, 'I, Chuck Bass, am a moron. Please, Blair, help me see the error of my ways by graciously taking me back.' Of course, I'll have to make you work for it a little bit, but we can work out an installment plan."

"I'm fairly certain I can come up with something much more elegant than that," Chuck snorted.

Her eyes were lit up with laughter, and he couldn't resist the allure of kissing her again, and so he did.

"I was just trying to save you time," she said innocently. "I didn't want you to be stressed out all day at work, trying to come up with the perfect words."

"Just meet me around 9pm," he countered.

"Where?"

"Here."

Blair nodded.

"Now, I believe I have to leave the house in about half an hour. Care to join me in my shower?"

"I suppose that could be arranged, but only if you'll wash my back."

"I plan on doing quite a bit more than that."

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Chuck sat in his limo on his way to office—he was only going to be fifteen minutes late today, he thought with a smirk. The last three days had been nothing short of perfect, and one of the best parts was that the only clothes Blair had been able to wear, were _his_. When she confessed that she hadn't stopped home to dress _into_ something before arriving to his house, she had been forced to wear either one of his tailored dress shirts or silk pajama tops. He had almost offered to grab her something out of her closet, but she looked so sexy in nothing but an oversized shirt, that he stopped himself.

But now that he was outside the safe cocoon of Blairland, the internal monologue that plagued him was making itself known. It was the lingering thoughts of being weak and selfish that were his biggest issues. Even after three full days of being the happiest he had ever been—he was still scared that he would do something to shatter their world. What was the most frightening aspect was that they hadn't been pretending to play house or glossed anything over—they had simply been themselves.

And having had that glimpse of domestic bliss—Chuck knew he was going to cave. He was a fool if he thought for a moment that tonight was going to end in anything other than his concession that they needed to be together. Blair deserved for him to try things her way. He just had to believe that his love for her was strong enough for him to stop himself from ever doing anything to hurt her again.

The majority of him was elated, but there was a small part that was just so damn frustrated. Chuck could no longer chalk up this entire weekend to fate—especially not when he knew that Sam must have divulged his plans to somebody. And he _knew_ without a doubt that Henry had given Blair her copy of his key. He bitterly remembered how he had forced Hen to accept it after he moved in, and it was now the cause of his downfall. If she hadn't given Blair the key, it was possible that he may have managed to be a man of his word. It seemed that the people thwarting him were the ones whose loyalties were supposed to lay with him.

He stepped out of the limo with a grim look. As Chuck walked up the steps he noticed the Asian man that had been sitting outside the building, every day for the past couple of weeks. He knew he looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place the why. As he walked into the building he stopped to speak to his head of security. After an extremely informative thirty minute briefing, Chuck was still a bit stunned.

As he rode the elevator, he couldn't believe the utter hypocrisy of the situation. The more and more Chuck realized what had been going on, the more enraged he became. Unconsciously, he bypassed his own office and burst into Henry's without bothering to knock.

"Why the fuck would you give Blair your copy of the key to my house?" Chuck seethed.

She looked up from her computer in annoyance and took off her reading glasses as she met his furious gaze.

"One—it's _her_ house. And two, you're about three days late and several hickeys shy of being able to complain about it," she taunted. "Was it her turn to brand you, the way you did her?"

"Answer me, Hen, why would you give her my key?" He demanded.

"Why not?" She shrugged. "You're the one acting like a stubborn three year old. _Again_, it's _her_ _house_, Chuck, you should just tell her."

"What happened to the protective older sister vibe? You're on her side now?" Chuck asked, unable to keep the measure of hurt from out of his voice, as he ignored the warning in her words.

"No, Chuck," she sighed. "I'm always on your side, _you_ are the only one who's not on your side. She loves you and she wants to be with you. And you seem to think that being 'noble' and 'honorable' means punishing yourself."

"Did you just use air quotes with me?" he asked astonished.

"Way to focus on what's important! Look, I get that you're scared you'll hurt her again, but you're already hurting her now. She gave up a _life_ for just the promise of maybe being with you. You have spent the last five years waiting for her, and _now_ you decide you guys shouldn't be together? You do realize you haven't moved on, right?"

Her words triggered the opening that he had been waiting for. He was tired of having her push his buttons. Now he would respond in kind. With a hollow laugh he asked, "Pot calling the kettle black, Hen? It's been what, almost nine years?"

"Don't make this about me," Henry snapped back.

"Do you think I haven't noticed that you've been different since you got back from San Francisco? I know you've seen him, and you haven't even told me about it. Do you think anything goes around here without me knowing about it? You've been ignoring his calls and had security deny him entrance into the building. I see that you're handling this quite maturely," he said ruthlessly. "You are undermining me with Blair every step of the way, when you won't even bother talking to Hugh!"

"It's _not_ the same!"

"Oh, so I'm mistaken? The man who you've been in love with since you were seven, dating since you were twelve _hasn't_ been haunting the outside of this building every day for the past two weeks?"

"Don't—" Henry said weakly.

"_Don't what_?" Chuck exploded. "Do you see _me_ escorting him into this office and forcing you to talk to him? Do you see _me_ interfering with your choice not to talk to him? I could stranglehim for the way he treated you—accusing you of aborting your child with him and not letting you explain that it was a miscarriage. He disappeared off the face of the earth and left you to fend for yourself with your asshole of an uncle! _You almost died_ and he just abandoned you—left you completely dependent on someone who was using you to further his financial ambitions! It's been how long since he's done that, and yet you're still in love with him."

He glared at Henry who seemed speechless.

"But I don't question you—I don't push. I wanted to be able to make a decision about Blair, _by myself_. Why can't you let me handle my own life, the way I let you do yours?"

"But it's _not_ your decision to make by yourself," Henry said as she found her voice. "And I didn't force you stay in the penthouse with her these past few days. You were just going to run away and disappear from her. It's her life, too, you can't just make these decisions without consulting her."

"Why not? You're making decisions without consulting Hugh," Chuck rationalized. "He's clearly contrite—he patiently sits outside the building from 7am to 7pm, just trying to see you."

"But he isn't still in love with me!" Henry screamed painfully. Choking back a sob she whispered, "He keeps saying 'I'm sorry' and 'please forgive me', but he hasn't told me the thing I need to hear most. What good is his guilt if that's the only reason he's trying? _This_ is why I didn't say anything to you. I knew you'd just shift your focus to me, instead of dealing with your own issues about Blair!"

"So now I'm not allowed to be concerned about you anymore? But you can plot behind my back with Blair? Stop telling me what to do!"

"Well someone clearly has to! Poor little rich boy, Chuck, your dream girl is standing in front of you offering herself and wants _forever_, _with you_. You just can't accept that it's enough. Go on and keep putting obstacles in your way just because you think you don't deserve to be happy."

Chuck looked like he had been slapped. Henry glared at him for one more moment before looking back at her computer. "The next time you feel the need to be a complete fucktard, find someone else to take your issues out on. I'm boycotting you for the next two weeks, so unless it directly has to do with Bass Industries, don't call, text or talk to me. And every time you do, I'm adding a day. Shut the door on your way out."

"Hen, I'm—" he said contritely.

"Starts now," she said icily, not even bothering to look up from her computer.

He stood there for a minute watching as she ignored the tears that trailed down her cheeks. Chuck could count the number of times he'd seen her cry on one hand, and never had he been the cause. He had gone too far—had manipulated the situation, crafted his words to lash out at her because this was who he was. "You know, this is what I do. I say things like this, I twist her words, I bring up the most painful parts of her life and I throw it in her face. Like I just did to you, right now. I know you think I'm being an idiot, but there are reasons."

"No, Chuck. You're being a coward, because you still haven't learned to take responsibility that you need to _try_ and _stop_ yourself from behaving like this. I thought you were growing up, but I thought wrong, you're still that lost twenty year-old boy I met at that bar," Henry said bitterly, as she wiped away her tears. "Are you going to leave, or do I have to call security?"

"I'm sorry, Hen," he said quietly, as he walked out and softly shut the door to her office.

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It was almost ten when she let herself into his penthouse that evening and it was completely dark. As she slowly moved down the hall and reached the living room, his voice cut through the silence, "I made Henry cry today."

"Why?" Blair asked softly, as she flipped on the lights, flooding out the darkness. He sat brooding on an oversized chair.

"Do you know I've only seen her cry twice? The first time she told me about _Hugh_, and then the day she told me about her miscarriage."

"What happened?" Blair said cautiously.

"I did that thing I do," Chuck said. "You know the thing I do better than anyone else? Taking something of meaning to someone, and twisting it around into words to make it the cruelest insult."

"So she told you about Hugh?"

"No, but she told you?" He accused. Chuck fell silent before he glumly admitted, "I found out from my head of security. All of a sudden she doesn't trust me—she won't confide in me."

"Henry's going through a lot right now and she's trying to be a real sister to you. She cares about you deeply."

"I know. But I couldn't stop myself, I just couldn't help it," he said dejectedly.

"Well, you'll just have to take whatever punishment she doles out and make sure you never do it again," Blair soothed, as she walked towards him and settled in his lap. She ran her fingers through his hair, in a gesture that had always calmed him.

He flinched. She watched as he struggled between burying his head into her chest and holding her or pushing her off him completely. Chuck opted to remain motionless. Blair continued stroking his hair. The silence was reassuring, it meant that he was very carefully considering his next action. And whatever was coming next would either be completely debilitating or possibly one of the most beautiful thing that could be said. There was a comfort in knowing her odds.

Very gently, Chuck hands gripped Blair's waist as he maneuvered her off of him. He strode to the bar and poured himself a large glass of scotch. Without taking a sip, he walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city nightlights. His back facing her, he leaned on a wall and took a large gulp.

Debilitating, it was, she thought wryly. She kicked off her shoes and curled into a more comfortable position on the armchair he had just abandoned.

He cleared his throat. Hoarsely he managed to get the words out, "I've always derived some pleasure in hurting you. There's a sense of satisfaction I get in doing it. It's not that I _want_ to hurt you, but sometimes, I just can't help myself. There are moments that I just have to do it— if only to make you feel a sliver of the pain you've inflicted upon me. So I use the things I've observed about you and the things you've confided in me, and I say words that I can't take back."

Chuck closed his eyes, as his words from the past flooded back, tormenting him.

_I don't want you anymore, and I can't see why anyone else would._

_That's too bad._

_Stop playing the wife._

_It's just a game. I hate to lose. You're free to go._

_Maybe it was, but it's not anymore._

_It's the reason I couldn't say 'I love you'. It's because I can't trust you. _

_When are you going to get it? There is no way. I am everything my father said I was._

_You said you would stand by me through anything. This, Blair, is anything._

_Spare me your NYU freshman psych analysis. Perhaps if you were at an Ivy you'd have better insight. _

_You can't stand to see someone finally change me that wasn't you._

_You just brought back my worst self. This means war, Blair. _

_Whatever you want, wherever you want it, I am going to be there to take it away from you. I won't stop until you have nothing. _

_I love to watch you squirm. The pleasure I get from witnessing your shame is considerable. _

"Stop playing the martyr, Chuck," Blair sighed. "If you're going to do this, we'll do it right. As if I didn't relish rubbing any and every guy in your face? Remember senior year of high school? Nate? Marcus? Carter? Do you know that even though it broke my heart to say it to you, I lied when you asked me if I felt the same way about Marcus that I did Nate, because of the heart pin—just because I wanted to break your heart more? That hanging out with Carter Baizen just to annoy you helped me sleep at night? Dating Nate that final time was just so I could say 'I love you' to him and hold his hand in front of you and show you everything you would never have?"

"It's not the same, Blair. You've always reacted to things I've done, not be the cause of them," he argued.

"Do you really want to play this game?"

"It's not a game," Chuck said ironically.

"It is if you're going to insist on playing the villain and make me out to be the heroine," she sharply. "It's not black and white every single time! You and I fill in every possible hue of the gray in between."

Blair forced herself to take a breath, before continuing calmly, "Don't you get it? We balance each other out. Are we both petty and spiteful? Of course. But it doesn't mean that we can't also be sweet and thoughtful."

"Stop wrapping it up in a pretty package! You can't keep justifying my behavior because it makes you feel better about yourself," he growled.

"Your behavior doesn't, but you do," she answered cryptically.

"What does that even mean?"

"Don't act like you're not the man that patiently waited five years for me to realize that I need to be with you. That it will _always_ be you!"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because _this_, Chuck, is anything."

"No," he whispered. He shook his head. "I don't want you to do this."

"What do you think 'anything' means? It means that I'm not going to leave your side because you doubt yourself and your ability to love me. It means I will reassure you every time you think you don't deserve me. It means if I have to wake up every day, and convince you that loving me is ok, I will."

"I won't let you do it."

"Doesn't matter," she shrugged. "It's not your choice to make."

"Please, Blair, I'm begging you, end this. Walk away from me," he pleaded.

"I can't. I don't want to."

"Well what about what I want?"

"You want me," she said simply.

"And if I don't?"

"But you do…always have, always will."

"I can change it."

"It's been what, eight years? Highly doubtful."

"I won't let myself than, I will stop, so we can end this."

"You're only fooling yourself."

"How can you want this? To be with someone like me, who does this to you? I'm begging you to stay away from me, and yet you act like it doesn't hurt you that I don't want to be with you," he yelled.

"But you _do_ want to be with me. And it doesn't hurt for the reasons you think," Blair stated matter-of-factly.

"So me rejecting you doesn't hurt?"

"How can it? When all I see is you rejecting yourself?"

She cringed slightly when he slammed a hand against the window. She waited for a moment before she continued, "We're the same—to the core. We hurt each other because we know that we are ultimately hurting ourselves. And the reason we enjoy it so much, is because we think that we deserve to be hated, and that lashing out is the only way we can insure that we fill the void. We do it so we can cling to something, have excuses for why we're who we are. Because some days, when we look in the mirror, we will never understand how the other could love what we see."

"Don't try to make it so simple."

"Chuck, when are you going to get it? I'm not going anywhere. If it's my turn to wait five years before _you_ realize that being with me doesn't hurt me, then I'll wait. You know, when you said that you were barely alive these past few years? I would rather be Blair Waldorf, dealing with your enormously stubborn pain in the ass, than be Blair Waldorf without you. Because Blair Waldorf's world doesn't exist without you in it," she said.

She walked up to his standing form by his post at the window, and put her hands on his face. She kissed him softly. "I love you, Chuck Bass, don't you forget that."

Blair dropped her hands and grabbed her purse and shoes, and headed towards his bedroom. She was exhausted, and who knew how long he was going to be out here sulking. She had a long day ahead of her tomorrow. One of them might as well try and get some sleep, she thought as she got ready for bed.

Five hours later, when she was deep asleep, another figure crawled into bed. He hovered over her for a few moments just gazing at her. Finally, he rolled onto his side, and slipped his arms around her waist, drawing her close. She shifted, instinctively curling into his familiar body. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and whispered _I love you, too_, in her ear, before succumbing to sleep.

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_**tbc

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A/N: So this chapter had the angst I was alluding to a couple of chapters ago. And now you know the gist of Henry's story and the reasons behind her recent behavior. I only have one more really angsty scene planned out, and a handful of minor ones. Don't worry, Chuck and Blair are not regressing. And I'm semi-apologizing for all the fluff-splosion that occurred, it really, really, really wasn't planned, but I think it served a purpose. And I will try to update within a week.

For my beta, Noirreigne, who is happy that I split the last two chapters so she didn't have to drive herself crazy while betaing.

Thanks readers and reviewers for continuing on in this journey! I hope you are still being entertained.

The GG cone of silence (the last episode watched was 4x11) is still in effect! And I think I am going to wait for the finale to air before I pick up where I left off.

Just a little note, my wonderful and amazing beta, Noirreigne and fellow writer KatieDV are heading up a new fic archive site – gossip-fic dot net. They also have a wonderful forum for writers/ reviewers/ and readers if you want to participate! The site is in its infancy, but crossing our fingers that we can foster positivity in our GG fanfic fandom, it would be great to see you there!


	19. a CB compromise

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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Chuck woke up alone—Blair's side of the bed was empty and cold, as if she had never been there. The indentation on the pillow with a few strands of her hair, were the only indication that she had occupied the space. He rolled over and swung his arm over his eyes as he started to feel the mild throbbing in his head. As the events of last night reentered his brain, he was alarmed by the fact that no resolution had been made between the two of them. This was _not_ even close to how he had expected last night to turn out at all.

Over the past couple of weeks he had grown used to waking up next to Blair, and not having her there this morning, physically made his heart ache. The clenching in his chest forced him to sit up at the edge of his bed. With a glare, he stared hatefully at the elaborate wardrobe that covered the door to Blair's closet. He had purchased it in such haste, that it was about a half foot too short, and when he rested against the headboard, he could see the trim of the top of the French doors, peeking from behind.

The silence of the penthouse was deafening. A quick glance at the clock indicated that he had slept for less than three hours. How Blair had managed to leave his house without waking him, was a mystery to him. Where could Blair possibly have to be this morning that she had left before seven am? Grumbling, he stood up and shuffled his way down the hallway and into his office. Sitting at his desk, he pulled the drawer to his left open and reached up to remove a hidden key.

The ornately designed skeleton key stared back at him. With a sigh, he scooped it up before returning to the master bedroom. He bypassed the armoire and headed straight into the bathroom. Fitting the key into the only locked door, he stepped into the unconscionably large walk-in closet. The last time he had entered this room had been the day he left Blair's mother's house, convinced that things between them were permanently over. Chuck had waited until he was certain that Henry had left the house before retrieving the key. He had angrily stormed into the room with a glass of scotch in hand. When he saw his reflection in vanity, the sudden urge to destroy the room and all its contents was overwhelming. He had flung his glass at the mirror, causing it to crack—he had finally had it replaced last week. Emotional and mental fatigue had taken over, and it had resulted in him falling asleep on the floor.

Pulling open the top drawer of the vanity, Chuck dug out the second master key card to his home. Logic would dictate that he safeguard it by locking it in his safe—however, the key had only ever been made for Blair, and it seemed silly to keep it anywhere but within her domain. Glancing around, one final time, he slipped back out and locked the door. _He_ wasn't ready to give her that gift, quite yet, but he would give her one that would show her that he was going to try, _for her_.

He grabbed his phone of the nightstand before walking back down the hall to return the key to its natural hiding place. As the phone rang, his body thrummed with nervous energy, he didn't even know what he was going to say. Her voicemail picked up. With a sigh, he left a message.

"Blair, it's me. You left without waking me. We need to finish our discussion from last night. Please call me when you have a spare moment," he said. He paused. "I love you."

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Chuck stepped out of the limo in front of his office building and looked to his left to see if he could find Hugh. He was surprised when he was nowhere in sight. He wondered if his fight with Henry yesterday had caused her to confront Hugh. Chuck felt the impetus to yell at the man who had broken his sister. But like everything else that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, he had no clue if he even knew what he would have said or done. A part of him hoped that Hugh hadn't given up, Henry deserved to have someone fight for her, the way he was fighting himself to protect Blair. He could only hope that there was a reason for Hugh's absence.

By the time he reached his office, Chuck felt even more unsettled. He wasn't going to be able to focus until he had spoken to Blair and at least attempted to mend the breach with Henry.

Sam looked up and flashed him a wan smile. "Henry's inside."

Chuck nodded as he stepped into his office, feeling a slight flare of relief that she wanted to talk.

"Hen," he said softly.

She sat in a chair across from his desk, her arms crossed and without a drop of warmth in her eyes. In the most detached voice he had ever heard from her, she said, "Please review the contracts for the Mercer and Ward deal. I have the notary scheduled to be here at 2pm. If there are any addendums or stipulations you'd like to make, I need to know within the next hour so I can have legal handle the changes."

"I'm sorry about what I said yesterday—," Chuck began.

"I believe I was clear when I asked you to limit your communications with me to work-related matters. What was discussed yesterday afternoon during your tantrum is off limits," Henry said icily.

"Let me at least apologize."

"Are we done here?" She ignored his previous words.

"Hen," Chuck begged. "Don't shut me out."

"There are consequences for you actions, Chuck. _You_ of all people must be aware of this. I'm going to let this go, this once, but you have thirteen days left before I even want to _think_ about talking to you again." She stood up and walked to the door. "I need your notes on the contract in the next 55 minutes."

And before he could demonstrate any remorse, she was gone. He pulled out his phone, mentally willing Blair to call him. She had not answered his second call on his drive over. Running a hand through his hair, he looked down at the contract in front of him. He had better start reading now, he had a suspicion that it was going to take well over thirty minutes for him to get through these pages.

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It was almost midnight, when Blair stepped into her bedroom at her mother's penthouse. She was so exhausted. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but travelling to Cornell University, Yale and NYU on the same day, was not advisable. She was relieved that her appointment at Princeton wasn't until late afternoon tomorrow. Cyrus, her mother and her father had all pulled strings to get her interviews with the deans of admission, hoping that they would accept her late application for the next Fall or Spring semester.

Being back in Manhattan had reminded her of all her ambitions in high school and college. If Blair thought about it, she couldn't believe that she had just disappeared to Paris and Louis, never once considering a career. She wrinkled her nose at the thought, and was grateful for Chuck. Despite the fact that she had been the cause of many of his work distractions—which was entirely his own fault; watching him in his element had triggered her something within her. She needed a career of her own. Although the last couple of months had been fun and she had been settling in, she was bored. And a bored Blair Waldorf was a dangerous thing. She needed to funnel all that mischievous energy into something substantial, and getting her MBA really did seem like the trick. Eleanor had hinted that perhaps Blair should consider taking over the business side of Waldorf Designs, leaving her free to do the creative end. It wasn't necessarily the first choice for her, but she couldn't rule out the possibility of embracing it.

As she reached for the light switch, she contemplated sleeping alone in her own bed tonight. Why she hadn't gone straight to Chuck's was beyond her. Blair had been so overwhelmed by her rigorous schedule, she hadn't paid attention when she told the driver that she wanted to go home. When they had pulled up to the Waldorf penthouse, instead of Chuck's, she had smiled to herself. She supposed it wouldn't hurt for her to grab a few things. Plus, she needed to find her damned cell phone charger! Her phone had died as she left Chuck's this morning. He was probably going to be cranky that she was coming home so late. She hoped that he wasn't going to scold her for her being incommunicado, but with all her interviews that day, she had barely had a moment to herself.

Blair flung her purse onto the bed and headed towards her closet, when she heard a familiar throat clear. Jumping back, she turned, only to see Chuck sitting calmly in her armchair.

Unable to stop herself, she launched herself at him, straddling him on his lap. His arms encircled her tightly as she kissed him excitedly, her mouth devouring his. He responded in kind, kissing her with an intensity she hadn't expected. She had missed him all day, and to find him waiting for her at her home was just what she needed. Blair pulled her mouth away as she pressed tiny kisses across his cheek.

Breathily, she whispered in his ear, "Let's stay here tonight."

Suddenly she noticed Chuck's vise-like grip on her hips loosen a smidgeon as she heard an almost imperceptible breath of relief.

He murmured back, "Whatever you want."

Chuck pulled her against him, his hands threading through her hair, as he kissed her desperately, again and again. He stood with her legs wrapped around his waist, as he rolled onto the bed. He frantically tugged at her clothes while ravishing her mouth with his. When he paused to shrug off his shirt, Blair clung to a moment of clarity, stopping herself from being swept away by need. She looked up at him, and saw the combination of fear and desperation haunting his eyes. As he reached for her again, Blair placed her hand on his bare chest to stop him.

"Blair, I need you," he begged hoarsely as he covered her hand with his.

With her free hand, her thumb reached out and rubbed his lower lip. "Chuck, what's wrong?"

Ignoring her question, he suckled lightly on her fingertip, grazing the skin with his teeth.

She yanked her hand back as she suppressed her desire to give in to his seduction techniques.

Shaking her head, she gently said, "I can't make it all better, if you won't tell me what's going on in that mind of yours, Bass."

Sighing deeply, he laid on his back, sprawled out on her bed, his eyes glued to the ceiling. Blair rested her head on his chest as she curled up next to him. His hand found hers, lacing their fingers together. The sound of his heart thumped loudly, slightly erratically. He was nervous, and she didn't know why.

"Where were you today, Blair?"

She bolted up, and leaned on one elbow to stare at him. He refused to make eye contact. She noticed his clenching jaw, and she realized it—he had been scared that she was done.

Blair leaned up and kissed him softly on the mouth, before resuming her prior position, snuggled next to him. "I had three interviews, and a fourth one scheduled for tomorrow."

"Interviews for what?" Chuck said tensely.

"To see if I could charm my way into business school to get an MBA. Admission letters were mailed out in March. Applications for both the Fall and next Spring semesters were due _last November_. Why did I think it was a good idea to be driven to Ithaca, after my NYU appointment and then to New Haven?"

Silence.

Rolling her eyes, she continued. "Do you remember that little brat, Emma Boardman, the one who was so desperate for you to take her virginity? Dean Berube's goddaughter or something or other? UGH! She was outside his office when I was leaving. She wanted to play catch up and when the Dean extended an invitation to dinner, I couldn't exactly say no, now could I?"

Chuck humphed. In an accusatory tone he questioned, "Are there no phones where you were?"

She dug her fingers into his hip, and pinched hard.

"Dammit, Blair!"

"My phone died after I left your house, and I couldn't find my phone charger. Besides, I wasn't aware that you were my parole officer. I'm sorry, I should have tried harder to call you, but it was an extremely hectic day for me," she said miffed. She pulled out of his embrace and sat up on her bed.

She waited in annoyance for a response as Chuck rubbed the skin on his hip.

"I left you eight messages," he finally confessed. "It's almost midnight, and you're here, instead of being with me at my house. We didn't exactly leave things settled last night. I woke up without you lying next to me, and you know how I hate that."

"And you know how much I hate being this tired!" Blair huffed. "I've been up since before six am this morning, and I have to be at Princeton by 3pm tomorrow. I didn't realize that when I said I wanted to go home to the driver, he would bring me here and not to your place, ok? I just spent three hours listening to some girl, who wasn't fit to be my minion at Constance, ask me all sorts of questions about _Chuck Bass_. Was I still in contact with him, did I know how to get a hold of him and how she wished she had been _bolder_ when she was younger."

Chuck lips twitched as an amused smile crossed his face, but he said nothing.

"You know, I have nothing to apologize for," she said, as her eyes narrowed. "Don't make me feel bad that I disappeared for _one_ day because of school, when you were going to hide from me for _four _days last week."

"It's not the same," he defended.

"No, it's not. Mine had merit, yours didn't," Blair snapped. "You're here, so you've obviously come to some conclusion. So, out with it!"

It was as if Chuck could sense the tension within her and realized that she was running on pure adrenaline at this point. He scooped her in his arms, and he buried his head in her curls as her back was cradled to his chest. She let herself relax into the soothing comfort his body always provided her.

They lay next to each other as the minutes ticked by.

Finally he spoke, "Ever since I was a child, I thought that happiness was never on the menu. Growing up on the UES, what we were entitled to was a trust fund, a house in the Hamptons, and maybe a prescription drug problem. But that night at Victrola, as you bounced up the stairs and danced for me, when I looked at you, I finally _saw_ you. And suddenly, whatever pre-existing cage I built for myself, well it was _never_ going to be enough—not without you in there with me."

He brought her hand to his mouth as he kissed each finger individually. Her heart started beating quickly, excitement at what his words implicated.

"I'm a horribly weak and selfish man, Blair. Being with you the past few weeks has made me realize that I can't be without you, even for your own good."

Blair sighed as the smile that had been about to form, slowly faded away. "I'm sensing a 'but' here. Go on, Bass, give me your caveat."

"Three months. Please, Blair, just give me three months. Let's make this a trial period, just so I can try and work out my fears," he said softly. "After three months, we can revisit this topic. If you still want me after that, as issue-ridden as I am, then you'll have me."

"But I already want you the way you are now," she pouted grumpily. "Three months isn't going to change that for me."

"I need to give you an out, just while I'm trying to fight my own battles. I love you, Blair, and I want to be with you, always. This is just a temporary compromise until I can become the man that you deserve," he said earnestly. "I've never wanted anything other than you, and I never will. This isn't a loophole for _me_, it's a loophole for _you_."

"Love isn't about loopholes, Chuck," Blair whispered. "Love is about trust."

"And the only person I don't trust here is me."

She paused for a moment. "So what does this 'trial period' mean, then?"

"It means, that I'm asking you if you would please be my date this Saturday at the Bass Industries sponsored charity event."

"And how do you plan on introducing me at this event?" Blair queried. "Will you introduce me as _your girlfriend_?"

Chuck shifted so he was directly above her and cupped her face in his hands. "You're Blair Waldorf, you could never _just_ be my girlfriend. Being who you are makes you so much more than that."

She flashed him a radiant smile as she turned her face into his palm and pressed a kiss. "But on Saturday night, I _want_ to be able to introduce myself as your girlfriend."

"Whatever title you want, Blair, they're all yours. I'm in this, I just need some time to convince myself I'm doing the right thing."

"Well, _boyfriend_, why don't you start by convincing me now?" She teased, as she drew him closer to her. She nipped playfully at his mouth.

"As you wish," he said with a smile.

And then he proceeded to do just that, convince her with his body that she was everything to him.

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It was seven a.m. when Chuck woke up. Blair's body was draped comfortably over his, and he let himself savor the moment. Even though it had only been one day since he last had the simple pleasure of waking up next to her, today, it felt a bit more meaningful. She made a little breathy noise before twitching her nose and rubbing her cheek on his shoulder. He wanted to lay there and watch her all day, but he had to go to work, and she had an important interview later. Despite wanting to let her catch up on sleep, he didn't want her to wake up this morning without him, and there were still a couple last details to be settled.

Rubbing his nose against her cheek, he whispered, "Time to wake up, Blair."

She mewled with displeasure as her left hand trailed across his chest. Whimpering softly, she buried her face into his neck.

"Blair," Chuck teased. "I have a present for you."

She shook her head and mumbled, "Present later, I'm sleepy, bad boyfriend kept me up too late."

He counted to ten, before yanking the duvet off of her and dislodging his body from hers.

"Chuuuuuuck!" She screeched. Annoyed, she looked up to glare at him, but he was smiling and happy. "What could possibly not wait another hour or so?"

"I have to get up and go home before I go to work, and I didn't want you to wake up without me next to you," he said pointedly.

Blair rolled her eyes at him, but snatched back the duvet before sitting up in her bed. "Fine. Get on with it."

He reached across her for his jacket that was slung on her armchair, and fumbled through his pockets. She wondered what on earth could be so important that they couldn't discuss this later, preferably more than two hours from now. Just when she was about to push him off of her for making her wait, he looked back and flashed a triumphant grin at her. He dropped his jacket onto the floor, and sat back next to her.

"Here, I want you to have this," he said.

She stared at the silver key card that Chuck had placed in her hand, which bore the letter 'B' in the corner. Looking up at him quizzically she said, "Thank you?"

Narrowing his eyes at her, he frowned. "I thought you'd be happy. It's your key to the penthouse."

"But I already have Henry's, she said I could keep it," she explained. "In fact, I believe she said that the only way I could return it was if I had kicked _you_ out of the penthouse."

"That's just a common key, one which we will _not_ be returning anyway," Chuck grumbled. "This _new_ key is the only other _master _key. It gives you full access to everything, including the private elevator."

"You couldn't just say that as you handed it to me?" She asked mockingly. Before the glare could form on his face, she leaned over and kissed him. "Thank you, Chuck. It's perfect, I love it."

"I just wanted you to know, that I'm serious about trying to make this work, that it's not just empty words. We might be on a trial period, but there's nothing I have that I won't give you if I can. I want you to come and go as you please, and know that I will never shut you out of my house. And if I try, you have a way in—other than through my heart," he said softly.

"That's the only way that truly matters," she said sweetly, placing her hand over his heart.

He leaned in, gently brushing his lips to hers. "I'll see you tonight? And you'll call me after your interview, and give me every last excruciatingly boring detail about how much you hate the drive to New Jersey?"

She nodded.

"Do you want me to call in any favors? Make a donation so you can go to the school of your choice?" He offered.

Blair shook her head wildly. "You know how important it is to me to get in on my own, Chuck. My transcripts are flawless, if they aren't good enough, than I don't deserve to get in. Promise me you won't do anything to influence the outcome."

"I promise I won't do anything without your approval," he amended.

She stared at him closely, but was unable to detect even the slightest hint of deception. Blair breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Oh, and I forgot, I promised Serena we'd meet her and Carter for dinner at The Waverly Inn. Apparently, the ring has finally been fitted, and she _refuses_ to tell me what he got her!"

"Why do we have to see the lech?"

"Because he's engaged to your sister!"

"Serena's technically _not_ my sister, so I shouldn't _have _to spend time with that scum who somehow hoodwinked her into marrying him," he argued unconvincingly.

"Chuck!" She admonished.

"Blair!" He imitated back.

"I want to have dinner with my best friend and her fiancé," she began. When he attempted to interrupt her, she held up her hand. "I want my _boyfriend_ to come with me. Is that too much to ask for?"

She tried not to laugh at the look of disgust on his face.

"But I would much rather have a quiet dinner at home with my beautiful _girlfriend_, because I want to hear all about her _four_ interviews to Business School," he countered suavely.

Blair crossed her arms. "Drinks at 1Oak, then? I can probably get us out of dinner, but not out of seeing them completely. Plus, I don't want to flake on her, and I'm dying to see her ring!"

"You can't _force_ me to talk to him," Chuck stressed.

"Are you just going to sulk and sit in the corner then? While the rest of us talk?"

"Probably," he said sullenly. As if inspired, he suddenly gave her a charming smile before he asked, "Wouldn't it be more fun if we called Nate? The four of us could celebrate Serena's engagement, and if Carter, somehow didn't make it onto the list of people invited, well that's just unfortunate."

"You are impossible!" She laughed.

"But you love me?" He asked hopefully.

"Don't you have to leave for work?"

"I should get going."

He kissed her one last time, before getting out of bed. While Chuck slipped on his clothes, Blair snuggled back into bed.

As she heard the door open, she called out. "I expect you home by 7pm. And like it or not, we're having drinks with Serena _and Carter_."

With a smile, Blair ignored the muffled string of curse words from Chuck, as she drifted back to sleep.

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_**tbc**_

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A/N: I sincerely apologize for the delay, but I think I might have been procrastinating? This is not how I wanted this chapter structured or the length, but I think it worked out ok. It was supposed to be much, much longer, and wrapping up an entirely different element that will now be saved for the next chapter. See! I told you they weren't regressing! And I have no idea where all this fluff is coming from, either. I will do my damnedest to update within a week. Still hovering at about 3 more chapters and then the epilogue. But we'll see how that goes, as when I actually start writing things, my muse likes to do funny things.

For the best beta, ever, Noirreigne! Who is still taking the time to edit my story, even though she is busy trying to run the new forum (at gossip-fic dot net, in case you didn't know).

For Ilu, I have one word for you–perfect!

And of course, thank you to my readers and reviewers for you awesome and kickass support! I seriously had a 'moment', or maybe several, while reading your reviews for my last chapter. I feel super blessed to have the most _amazing_ reviewers. You guys are my support system, and make me want to write the best story as quickly as possible! So in case you didn't get that, THANK YOU!

The GG cone of silence is still being wonderfully embraced, and started after 4x11 and is still going strong. Thank god for DVRs…I'll get to them when they are nearly done airing the season. So, please no comments about events post 4x11.

Oh, and for those of you who read my other fic, Mad About You, I'm pulling out my half-finished Chapter 9, as we speak. Now that this story is winding down, I really have no excuse to leave that story on hiatus…an update sometime in the next week, I'm thinking.


	20. a mad, mad soiree

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.

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Knock, knock.

Nate shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortably as he waited for the door to open. It wasn't that he was exactly nervous, or anything—it was _not_ a date, it was just _odd_. Truthfully, he had been caught completely off-guard when Henry had texted him earlier that week, asking if he would be her platonic date to the BI charity event. He hadn't even _known_ there was a charity event. Nate had chalked it up to Chuck and Blair being too busy with each other to inform him. Come to think of it, he hadn't heard from either of them since he had visited Chuck at his office almost two weeks ago.

Before he could ponder the thought any further, Henry opened the door to her apartment, took one look at him and snorted. "Are we fucking going to prom?"

He grinned sheepishly as he held a plastic flower box in his hands.

"Seriously, you don't actually expect me to wear that, do you?" She asked as she looked horrified at the unoriginal red roses with baby's breath wrist corsage.

"Uhm…" Nate stuttered. "I just thought—"

"UGH! Clearly you weren't thinking at all, and that's the problem! I'm thirty, not seventeen," Henry informed him. With a sigh, she held out her hand to accept the box. "Thank you, Nate. Wait here, I'll be right back."

Nate leaned against the wall, as he waited for Henry to come back. He was uncertain if he should be mortified or insulted—but he couldn't even remember _why_ he thought getting a corsage was a good idea. It was supposed to be a peace offering. Whether Henry was aware of it or not, he _knew_ she was still furious at him about what had happened with Chuck at his housewarming party. It was evidenced by her trading what was considered _the untouchables_ on her fantasy baseball team to whomever he was matched up against each week.

Nate really hoped it wouldn't be an awkward night, with Carter there it was going to be tenuous enough. The instant that he heard that Serena had gotten engaged, and there hadn't been a trace of jealousy, he knew that the chapter between them was finally closed. He was actually thrilled that she had found someone she was willing to settle down with—until he heard that the man in question was Carter Baizen. He couldn't help but still be angry at him for ruining his relationship with Serena all those years ago—even if it had been for the best. And there was still that little matter of trying to swindle him in the poker game during high school.

He hadn't realized that Henry was back, until he heard a door shut and the sound of a lock being turned into place. When he looked up, she was definitely not wearing his token of apology, but she held out a foiled-wrapped plate at him.

"Even though, I'm still furious with you, and you had the audacity to buy me a corsage, like I'm some fucking high schooler," she paused, only to continue in a softer tone, "I appreciate the effort. You don't deserve them, but here are the chocolate peanut butter cookies you like so much. I baked them this morning."

"I love you," Nate said happily, tearing open the foil and shoving one in his mouth. He closed his eyes as they walked down the hallway towards the elevator—there was something heavenly about Henry's cookies, he was convinced they were made with crack.

"For the record," she clarified. "I'm only inviting you because I'm fighting with Chuck, and I know for a fact that you were purposely left off the guest list."

"What are you talking about?" Nate asked as he reached for a second cookie.

"Surely you don't think it was an accident that you weren't invited, do you? Or that neither Chuck nor Blair called you to tell you that they're _together_ now? As in, officially a couple? Even though, Chuck had to go be his idiot self and put in a 'trial period'—" she gestured with air quotes.

"What do you mean they're together? Like _together_, together?" He interrupted.

The look that spelled 'duh' on her face had him frowning in confusion. As they stepped out of the elevator and into her apartment's main lobby, he stopped her. "Why wouldn't they tell me?"

Henry spoke condescendingly, "Are you _sure_ they're your best friends? You don't think that just because you clued Blair in on your talk with Chuck from _years_ ago or that you arranged for them to have dinner alone together on his birthday that all was forgiven, did you?"

He flashed a look of annoyance at her before shrugging.

She waited for him to open the door for her, before slipping into the town car that was waiting outside. "Well, newsflash, they haven't. And don't think this is the only social event you'll _accidentally_ be left off the guest list for. You're lucky that I'm _really, really_ pissed at Chuck, because you're on double secret probation with Blair. And she happens to be my favorite of the two, right now."

"You're serious? You're fighting with Chuck? What about?"

"None of your business," she answered quietly.

"Are you going to be a bitch tonight?" Nate asked hesitantly, preparing for an answer in the affirmative.

"Not towards you," she said cheerfully.

He looked at her and hopefully asked, "Does that mean you'll stop colluding against me in fantasy baseball?"

"Maybe."

The two burst out into laughter, and the tension was gone. Perhaps, tonight would be fun after all. And although he felt a bit unsettled at the thought of his two closest friends still being upset with him, Nate couldn't wait to see Chuck and Blair, together and happy again.

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"You look absolutely stunning," Chuck whispered as her eyes met his in the mirror. A smile crossed her face as he leaned over to kiss her bare shoulder. "I am definitely the luckiest man on this earth."

"Are you expecting an argument from me?" Blair teased back with a smile.

He lightly grazed her exposed skin with his teeth as he snaked his arms around her waist and buried his head into her neck. His hands started rubbing slow circles on her hips, and she leaned back into his arms.

"No, Chuck. We're leaving in fifteen minutes, and I'm still mad at you from the other night," she said firmly, resisting the urge to lose herself in them.

"I can be quick," he murmured. "Plus, it'll give you that natural glow."

Blair thought back to earlier that week when she and Chuck had met Carter and Serena for drinks at 1Oak. On the limo ride over, Chuck had whipped her into a near sexual frenzy, teasing her furiously, only to _not_ touch her in the places where she craved him the most. Just when she had been ready to pin Chuck to the seat and have her way with him, the car had stopped abruptly, signaling their arrival. He had kissed her voraciously one final time, before stepping out of the limo and flashing a smirk at her over his shoulder. She had wanted to stamp her foot in frustration, and drag him back in. It had put her a bit on edge as they walked in and waited to be taken to a booth. Her body was practically thrumming with electricity, and each slight caress of his hand on her hip, made her want to scream _take me now_.

But before Blair could say a word, Serena had squealed as she jumped out of the booth to hug her, wiggling her left hand that displayed her engagement ring. While Blair ooh-ed and ahh-ed, Chuck had managed to wrap his arms around her waist, all the while smiling blandly. Blair had nearly whimpered in need, when she felt his hardness brush up from behind her. Chuck and Carter had barely acknowledged each other, as they let her and Serena sit in the middle so they could speak freely. When Chuck's hand had started creeping up her dress, Blair had had to bite her tongue from moaning out loud. She wondered just how flushed she appeared, but she noticed that Serena was squirming a bit uncomfortably as well. Carter and Chuck looked liked bookends, she had mused ironically, each of the men practically draped over her and Serena.

The drinks that had been ordered finally arrived, as both she and Serena had attempted to carry on a conversation. Blair thought she saw Serena elbow Carter more than once, as she had alternated between kicking Chuck in the shin, as his foot had moved too quickly for her to slam her heel down on it, and digging her nails into his thigh. After a very stilted twenty-minute discussion about wedding options, Chuck had managed to wedge apart her tightly closed thighs. Standing up abruptly, she had asked Serena to join her in the ladies room. She shot a death glare at her boyfriend before storming off.

On the walk to the ladies room, Blair noticed a familiar glow on Serena, and it finally occurred to her that both Carter and Chuck had intentionally been trying to seduce the girls in order to avoid having to speak to each other. After conferring with Serena, they had sat in the women's lounge and had martinis delivered there. It was almost forty minutes later when they finally returned to their male counterparts. When they reached the table, Chuck and Carter were sulking like children who had been put into time out—both clenched a glass of scotch in one hand, a Blackberry in the other, all the while refusing to make eye contact. Without bothering to hide their amusement, Blair and Serena hugged each other goodbye before parting ways. As mad as Blair had been with Chuck, she had still been aroused, and they had had to rechristen the limo on their drive home.

Shaking her head from the illicit memories, she pulled herself away from his embrace. "Tonight is a big night. It's important, I want it to be perfect, Chuck."

"You'll be with me, it can't get more perfect than that," he smarmed.

"Don't make fun, I'm being serious. This is our first appearance, as a couple," she said shyly. "I want it to go well."

"Perhaps a good luck charm, then?" He countered.

"What are you thinking?" Blair asked curiously.

"I'll be right back," Chuck promised as he disappeared into his walk-in closet.

As Blair waited, she looked critically at the midnight blue Grecian-style dress that clung in all the right places. She had yet to decide on her accessories. As much as she wanted to wear her diamond choker, she thought it was a bit much for this particular dress.

The polite cough from Chuck had her turning around sheepishly. His arms were hip-level and to the side, as he secreted a gift behind his back. She crossed her arms and raised a brow. With a smirk, he pulled out a familiar black velvet box. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach come alive.

"Something this beautiful, deserves to seen on someone worthy of its beauty," he said familiarly as he opened the box to display her Erickson Beamon necklace.

Blair couldn't help but get a bit teary-eyed and nostalgic. "Should I be afraid that Dorota's going to be able to retire from all your bribes?

He merely smiled as he placed her 17th birthday gift on her neck. When the clasp was snapped closed and he finished arranging the pieces to lie properly, he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. "Don't worry, Blair."

She caught a glimpse of the cufflinks she gave him for his birthday, on his sleeve when he rested a hand on her shoulder. Turning her head to brush her lips against his knuckles, she agreed, "I have you, that's all I need."

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Walking around the room with a nearly empty champagne flute in one hand, Henry smiled easily. She had been doing this dance for far too long and relished relinquishing the proverbial crown back to its rightful owner. When Blair and Chuck arrived, they would undoubtedly create a stir, and no matter how hurtful he had been earlier in the week, she was really very thrilled that he was finally _with_ Blair. Henry braced herself for what was sure to be a pitied reaction when the pair arrived—the looks of surprise she had garnered when arriving with Nate were only the tip of what was to come. She honestly couldn't care less what they thought of _her_, she just wanted to make sure that neither Chuck nor Blair was somehow going to be blamed. It annoyed her that she was still on protective older sister mode with Chuck, especially since he was presently undeserving.

For the first time in years, she was allowed to take a step back from having to schmooze and make appearances—she didn't know how they all did it. These events bored her to tears, and while some of the events benefited wonderful organizations, such as tonight's recipient, the Children's Health Fund, the thought of no longer being _obligated_ to attend made her giddy. Even tonight, she had stayed on the outskirts as the growing crowd trickled into the ballroom. She had lost Nate somewhere in the crowd when he had run into his mother's college roommate. Hoping to catch a breath of fresh air, she discarded her glass of champagne and wandered out onto the terrace and rested her elbows against the railing that overlooked the entrance of the Palace Hotel.

"I believe you're empty-handed," Nate interrupted her quiet musings by offering her a fresh flute of champagne.

"Thanks," Henry said as she was distracted by the sudden bursts of camera flashes in quick succession. She leaned over to see the commotion of who had arrived. "Which celebrity do you think it is?"

"Haven't the slightest clue," Nate answered as he, too, angled to see what had caused the excitement of the paparazzi.

The chorus of "Mr. Bass!" told them exactly who it was.

"I will not miss that for one second," Henry enthused. "Do you think Blair will mind?"

Chuckling softly, Nate confided, "Entrances and causing a spectacle is what Blair Waldorf, former Queen of Constance, was made for. She thrives on events like these, ruling over society, especially with Chuck as her King. They are so narcissistic—they enjoy showing off just how much they belong to each other."

When the crowd finally parted with enough room for the couple to slide through, Chuck paused to kiss Blair's hand tenderly, all the while his arm securely wrapped around her.

Henry clutched Nate's arm in excitement. "Awww, he's sooooo cute with her! They look so happy!"

"You know, if I were a bigger jerk, I would be giving you shit right now. Are you seriously squealing that Chuck's being _cute_?"

"If you weren't in the doghouse with everyone here at the event tonight, you'd be able to give me shit," she corrected with a half-hearted glare.

A smile crossed his face before he pointedly teased, "Someone's a hopeless romantic!"

"Not another word Archibald, you're set to go head-to-head against Dorota next week. I could make it very difficult for you," Henry warned, her cheeks flushing slightly in embarrassment.

"My lips are sealed," Nate said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

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In that moment, standing across from Pete and Janet Holmberg, with Blair by his side, felt like the most natural thing in the world. There had been a quick hush from the crowd when they walked in, before the loud buzz of conservation resumed. Chuck had been unable to keep from being in physical contact with her for the past half an hour since they entered the ballroom. He hadn't determined if it was out of possessiveness or simple need, but his arm or hand had been in vicinity of her waist the entire time. In the middle of their conversation, Blair had leaned against him while placing her left hand over his that rested on her hip, and laced their fingers together. There was no way she could know, but being with her like this, made him want to throw caution to the wind, rustle up a judge and marry her right now. He never wanted to go anywhere without her again.

Blair had been her charming self and had Janet had been eating out of her hand within a few minutes. When Mrs. Holmberg had she realized that she was Eleanor Waldorf's daughter, they quickly jumped into updating each other on old acquaintances. Pete had seemed thoroughly amused when she had regaled them with a story from his youth. Chuck had barely managed to present the right balance of embarrassment and chagrin. Before he could share a memory, in kind, she squeezed his hand, causing him to look down at her.

She whispered quietly in his ear. When he had nodded, she turned to the couple with a sincere smile, "You'll have to excuse me, but I just spotted someone that it's imperative I speak to."

"Blair, it was wonderful to have met you, dear," Janet smiled approvingly.

"Will we be lucky enough to see you again soon?" Pete had asked boldly, winking at him.

"You can be absolutely certain of that," Blair answered slyly. "I have rather lofty goals when it concerns this one."

Chuck smirked as she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

"It was a pleasure meeting you both, and I'm sure I'll see you later tonight," she reiterated.

When she started to walk away, his fingers locked tightly with her, forcing her to turn and look at him in exasperation. He tugged on her hand and drew her to him, and kissed her soundly on the mouth before finally letting her go. She was blushing gorgeously by the time he let her pull away. With a quick wave she disappeared into the crowd.

"Chuck, I must say, Blair is quite the catch," Pete said.

"You have no idea how lucky I am," he agreed modestly.

"Oh dear!" Janet exclaimed. "What about Henry? This will be quite the awkward mess!"

Before Chuck could even reassure Mrs. Holmberg, a scene was unfolding right before their eyes. Blair had found Henry across the room and they exchanged a warm hug. He watched in contentment when Blair linked her arm with Henry's as they leaned their heads against one another. The two most important women in his life adored each other, that was more than he had hoped for.

"Is there something we should know?" Pete asked curiously.

"We're just friends, we've only ever been just friends," Chuck admitted sheepishly. "Henry's been graciously keeping everyone at bay while I was trying to win back Blair."

"That explains so much," Janet exclaimed. "Oh congratulations, Chuck!"

"Thank you," he answered politely.

As the Holmbergs moved on, he continued to observe Blair and Henry—their faces animated and in complete ease. Chuck was about to head over when Serena beat him there. She thrust her finger in front of Henry's face excitedly. Henry's eyes widened before she made some comment that had them all laughing. He made a mental correction—it appeared as though the only _three_ women who mattered to him got along just fine—more than fine.

A firm hand patted him on his back. "Congratulations, man, Henry told me the news!"

He dismissed the mild irritation that she had not only invited Nate tonight, but she had clued him in on their secret. Even though Nate had recently done more good than harm, there was still some retribution to be paid, and it was supposed to have started tonight. But his spirits were much too high to act on childish impulse. With a grin, he asked, "What can I say? You know how irresistible I find Blair to be."

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Serena was demonstrating the various ways she had worked in flashing her 6-carat, emerald-cut, yellow diamond engagement ring into conversation. Both Blair and Henry were laughing hysterically by the time she was had performed the eighth example in her repertoire. She had demanded that they wait until she showed each of her ways before offering their suggestions.

"Congratulation toast, ladies?" Nate interrupted.

Chuck stood next to him and gestured towards the waiter that held a tray of champagne glasses.

"Natie! Chuck!" Serena squealed. She turned to the two other girls and in a loud stage whisper said, "Example No. 9."

She reached over with her left hand to snatch a flute off the tray, and then made sure to nearly poke Nate's eye out by shoving the ring in his face. Henry howled in laughter as Blair hid her face in her hands. Nate and Chuck joined in the amusement, none of the five noticed the amount of attention that was being directed their way—or the intense stare from a man in the shadows.

As the laughter died down, Nate took the opportunity to sweep Serena into a hug. "You're glowing and you look amazing! You really are happy, aren't you?"

"I'm sooooo happy, Nate, I can't even tell you!"

The other three looked to each other to give the former golden couple a moment alone.

As Chuck slid an arm around Blair and drew her close, he took the opportunity to speak to his sister. "Henry, you look lovely this evening."

Making a face, Henry said with false sweetness, "Yes, I believe there are ten days left before I have to even contemplate socially speaking to you again. I would _so_ hate to add another day."

"We're at a BI function and you came with my closest male friend. So, unless you want to find a different group to socialize with, I believe this counts as 'BI business'," Chuck said pointedly.

"Chuck, be nice," Blair warned sternly. "Henry doesn't have to accept you apology, and we're _all_ family here."

Henry stuck her tongue out at him childishly then downed her glass of bubbly.

The look on his face told both women how unhappy he was about their newfound alliance. As if to reassure him, Blair placed a kiss on his cheek as Henry rolled her eyes.

"Archibald, please take your hands off my fiancé," Carter said smoothly as he joined the group.

Serena laughed giddily before throwing her arms around Carter and kissing him passionately in front of the group. Blair and Henry exchanged small smiles while looking away. Nate and Chuck looked at each other with matching looks of disgust as they groaned in unison.

Nate spoke first, "Did Serena have to pick _him_? Shouldn't the three of us get a vote?"

Chuck agreed wholeheartedly, "It's as if she's intentionally ignoring the fact that he is not what you aspire to, but runaway from."

"Nathaniel Archibald! Charles Bass!" Blair hissed. "Who Serena chooses to be with is not up for debate. They're engaged, Carter is not going anywhere. Grow up!"

"Oh, you're _that_ Carter!" Henry said with an evil smile as she turned her back to Chuck. She held out her hand, "Any enemy of Chuck and Nate's is a friend of mine. I'm Henry Park."

"Hen!" Chuck whined.

"You promised you wouldn't be a bitch tonight!" Nate groaned.

Carter looked at her in admiration as he glanced at Serena. "She's kind of funny, I'm glad you two have a truce."

Carter took her hand and offered a friendly smile.

Blair shook her head in disbelief as the night became even more comical.

"Serena's ring is absolutely gorgeous and unique," Henry offered politely.

"Well," Carter said while gazing into Serena's eyes, "She's my sun, and the ring reflects that."

"You're turning into a mush, Carter!" Blair giggled.

"She's worth, every last mushy second of it," he confirmed. Serena beamed quietly.

Nate and Chuck stared at each other shaking their heads.

"If I ever sound like that, promise me you'll shoot me," Chuck said with repugnance.

"Done," Nate agreed. "And afterwards, I'll hang myself."

"You know, I can _hear_ you, right?" Carter questioned.

"_Chuck_," Blair said with a wicked glint in her eye. "Would you like me to share with the rest of the class some of the things you've said to me that are in a similar vein?"

"Please Blair, please enlighten us," Carter encouraged.

Before she could open her mouth, Chuck bent over and whispered rapidly in her ear. Her eyes closed for a brief moment and her lips parted before she flushed bright red. Looking at Carter sheepishly, she shook her head in the negative.

"B! You can't be a tease and not follow through," Serena exclaimed.

"C'mon Blair, I need confirmation that I'm the only male who's not whipped, here," Nate said confidently.

Blair bit her lip as she looked up at Chuck who merely shrugged. When she shook her head _no _again, a chorus of _boos_ sounded.

"Please, like we all don't know that he just told her he's going to withhold sex for the next week if she breathes a word," Henry snorted.

"Over share!" "Why would you say that?" "My ears are burning!"

Chuck laughed while Blair turned beet red—but there was no denial on her lips.

Henry shrugged, "He's Chuck Bass."

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When the speech portion of the evening had ended, and Chuck no longer had any more social obligations, he returned back into the fold of his family. Carter Baizen being present still irritated him to no end, but Serena was even more radiant than her usual self. There was a different kind of calm to her, and yet, she still seemed perfectly Serena. Carter was still being his skuzzy smarmy self—but it hadn't been like that night at STK. He was annoying but he wasn't going out of his way to bait anyone, almost as if he knew that it was important for Serena's sake that he try and get along with her three best friends.

It was a minor consolation that Chuck knew Nate shared similar feelings to his. And if really thought about it, Carter didn't care for him or Nate any more than they cared for him. The other night at 1Oak may have been a fluke, but he knew that neither Serena nor Blair would tolerate piggish behavior from either of them. So long as Henry didn't suddenly fall in love with his Uncle Jack, Carter was going to be the worst-case scenario—which technically wasn't _that_ bad.

Blair turned to look over her shoulder, as though she had sensed him there, and smiled. His heart skipped a beat, and he felt the butterflies in his stomach come alive. The feeling she inspired in him never got old—he wanted to whisk her on to the dance floor and do nothing but hold her in his arms all night, while she murmured salacious details about the people attending in his ear. When he reached her, she rested her head on his chest, as his arms found their way to his natural resting place—around her waist. He kissed the top of her head, and watched in amusement as Serena tried to engage everyone in conversation.

"Oh! Carter got this new video game last night! Henry, it was actually interesting enough that _I_ wanted to play. You have to let me know some tricks once you've played it," Serena said excitedly. Turning to face her fiancée, she informed him, "Henry is a pro when it comes to video games. Apparently she beats both Chuck and Nate like 90% of the time!"

Chuck frowned at the inaccuracy of the statement. It was more like 80%.

"What was the name of it, again? They have this really cool room, it's supposed to be a panic room, but they call it the 'Etta' room," Serena described.

Henry gasped as her face turned pale. Chuck turned to watch her carefully.

Nate was comically gesturing for Carter not to speak, then pointed towards Henry and mouthed the word _ringer_. Nate further offered, "Henry's ex was a gamer, so I swear she figures out the cheats before I can google them online."

"It's called, _Mercenary_," Carter laughed.

"They're not releasing that until next week," Nate said enviously. "How did you get a copy?"

"My friend does PR for the distributor, so I got one of the rare advance copies. I met the creator earlier tonight, Matthew Lim," Carter explained. "Did you want to meet him? I can go find him."

No one but Chuck noticed how tightly Henry was clutching her glass.

"Is he cute?" Blair asked, winking at Serena.

"Is he single?" Serena demanded. "If he is, Henry's single, and if she dated one gamer, why not another?"

"Enough," Chuck hissed. "Henry is not interested in him, not now or ever."

Henry's eyes met his, and he could see the desolation lurking. She shook her head. Chuck ignored the confused looks on everyone's face at his sudden outburst.

"Tell me what you want, Hen. Do you want him removed? I'll call security and have him out of here faster than you can blink," he told her seriously. "Let me help you."

"You can't help me," she said flatly. "Excuse me, everyone."

She walked off quickly, and he followed in pursuit. He grabbed her elbow. "Don't hide. You don't have to do this alone, I'm here for you."

"I don't want _your_ help, Chuck," she said hoarsely. "Please, just leave me alone."

He ignored her barbed words. "No, I can't. You didn't give up on me when you should have, and the last thing I'm going to do is give up on you. Please, Hen, I'm begging you, let me help you."

She looked at him sadly, as a tear rolled down her cheek and shook her head. "You should get back to Blair."

Henry yanked her arm free from him grasp and walked away. He stared after her helplessly for what felt like hours. When he felt Blair's arms wrap around him from behind, and her head resting between his shoulder blades, he released a breath of frustration. His hands covered hers as he closed his eyes briefly, trying to shake off the pain of Hen's rejection. Finally he whispered, "Why won't she let me help her?"

"I don't know," Blair answered softly.

Chuck temporarily released her hands so he could hug her properly. Right now he needed reassurances. It didn't seem fair that just as he got Blair back in his life, he was on the verge of losing Henry. Before he could seek solace in her embrace he caught sight of someone familiar. The man was staring intently in the distance, his eyes glued to someone's every move. Chuck followed his gaze and saw Henry emerging from the ladies lounge. _Jackpot_.

Without saying a word to Blair, he strode over quickly to the man whose entire being was focused on Henry. Chuck tapped the strange on the shoulder.

"Matthew Lim?"

"Yes?" The man asked, turning around.

"I'm Chuck Bass and I have something to tell you," he explained.

The man stared at him warily. "Ok."

Chuck punched the man as hard he possibly could, his fist making contact with the man's jaw. He growled, "Stay the fuck away from Henry."

"Chuck!" He heard Blair shriek from the distance. Henry's scream of "Hugh!" followed shortly. He turned around to see them both rushing towards him.

Unfortunately, they distracted him, so he was unprepared to defend himself when Matthew got up to punch him back in the face.

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_**tbc

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**_

A/N: Well, there was going to be some violence at some point, wasn't there? I hope it was completely unexpected. I am trying to crank the chapters out, it was my absolute goal to finish this story this month, but I don't know if I'll quite make it. But as oneshots have started to torture my brain, and I'm gearing up to start Mad About You again, I'm not sure how it'll shake out. I will admit, I'm starting to get depressed about finishing this fic…and I _think_ it's 3 more chapters and then the epilogue, although saying that, almost guarantees that that number is incorrect.

For my beta, Noirreigne, who somehow manages to squeeze in beta-ing my fics instead of writing her stories.

For my gamma, Ilu, you are my official logistics coordinator.

For the readers and reviewers who take the time and effort to read and review my work, I thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart. You guys kill me, and I appreciate your words.

The GG cone of silence is still being enforced. Although, I'm not going to lie, I'm _almost_ itching to start watching again. As always, please no comments about events post 4x11.


	21. when Blair takes charge

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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Garbed in only Chuck's navy, silk smoking jacket, Blair sat at the dining room table reading the newspaper. She had to give the editors credit, they had managed to select nearly a dozen photos that perfectly captured the arc of the story they were trying to sell. She chuckled as she read the caption, "Making A Splash! Billionaire Bass and a Love Square?" Really, she didn't know how they came up with the headlines. But despite her amusement, Blair was a bit saddened by the events of last night, overshadowing what should have been a brighter moment for her and Chuck. Instead of being fast asleep in the comfort of his embrace, she was wide-awake at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning, devouring the print media. While she had expected people to watch her, Chuck and Henry like a hawk last night—she had not expected the stalker-esque proportions.

One by one, Blair studied each photograph—Chuck kissing her hand at their arrival, followed by his spontaneous kiss in front of the Holmbergs, next was a shot of Henry, Serena and herself laughing hysterically, another shot had Chuck grabbing a teary-eyed Henry by her elbow, then there was the one of Blair hugging Chuck from behind. Multiple images of Chuck and Hugh taking blows at one another, yet another had Carter restraining Chuck, followed by Nate holding Hugh back, one of her holding a sobbing Henry, and a final shot of Chuck escorting Henry out of the ballroom. Blair sighed, if she wasn't part of this entire fiasco, she would've been salivating—wanting every deal of the drama that was unfolding.

Blair would be furious that Chuck still wasn't home, had it been anything other than the state of Henry's love life. Henry had called her close to 1a.m., insisting that Blair tell Chuck he needed to come home, especially since she had begged him to leave. She heard Chuck's firm voice in the background insisting that Blair would want him to stay and support her. The moment Henry let her get a word in edgewise, Blair softly told her that she had avoided telling Chuck what had happened long enough, and that he wasn't welcome back until Henry had given him all the details. Henry made a last ditch effort to appeal, inviting her to join them—but it was late, and Blair knew Chuck would know something was up if he saw her.

After that, each hour, on the hour, Henry texted Blair a photo of Chuck—varying from him dozing on the couch, to wearing an apron and one with a piece of steak on his eye. Blair didn't know if she could love Henry more than she already did, it amazed her how thoughtful she was while in a sea of her own misery. It also affirmed her decision, that giving Hugh Chuck's copy of the key to Henry's apartment, had been the right thing to do.

As she stared at the photos on the front page of the Society section, again, the events of last night trickled back, playing as clear as a movie in her head.

After Chuck had unceremoniously punched Hugh, the combination of her and Henry's screams had distracted him. It had forced Chuck to turn towards them, his back to Hugh. When Hugh stood up, he took that opportunity to punch Chuck in his right eye. Nate and Carter had rushed over, Nate stepping in front of Hugh, blocking him from any forward movement, while Carter did the same with Chuck.

It was only then, that Blair realized how silent the room had gotten, and that their small circle was becoming the evening's entertainment. Every head was turned in their direction, flashes of cameras and phones were going off, and no one had lifted a finger to call for security. The only words that resonated in her head were _damage control_. It was she who had taken over, as she looked to Serena and barked out instructions, "Go find Neil, he's the head of security, and get him here immediately."

Serena nodded as she rushed off to do as she was bid.

Before another word could be spoken, Chuck glared at Hugh and hissed, "Stay the fuck away from Henry, do you hear me? Security is on its way, and once you're escorted out of here, it will be a cold day in hell before you'll ever get to speak to her, let alone get within 100 feet of her. You don't get to hurt her again."

"I don't get to hurt her?" Hugh scoffed. "I'm not the one who tossed her aside for some _Upper East Side Princess_."

The loose hold that Carter had on Chuck vanished with that veiled insult, as Nate made sure Hugh was available for the succession of punches that Chuck threw in Blair's honor.

But it was Henry's sob and voice that sliced through the air, stopping Chuck in his motion, "Stop! You're hurting him."

Blair quickly rushed over to comfort her. Chuck stepped back, staring at Henry with a look of confusion and anger. He moved towards them and said, "He deserves to get hurt. He's been hurting you for years, and he doesn't get to make insinuations about Blair. No one gets to hurt _my family_. I won't let that happen again."

A collective gasp sounded as the crowd began tittering, reminding everyone, once again, how much of a display this all was.

Just as Blair was about to suggest that Nate take Hugh out to security, she heard the sound of running feet head towards them. It appeared that Serena had managed to get the attention of the staff. As two uniformed men held Hugh by his arms, Chuck hadn't been able to resist taunting him. "Take a good look, because this is the last time you'll ever get to see her."

His words must have struck a chord, because Hugh's head jerked as he looked at Henry. As they were dragging him away, just as he was being pushed out the doors, he finally yelled, "Etta, I want to marry you, I want you to have my babies."

The pained look that crossed Henry's face was almost too much for Blair to bear, and she was relieved when Henry threw herself into Chuck's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. As Chuck tried to console her, rubbing a reassuring hand up and down her back, his eyes found hers. Blair leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Take her home, now. Call me later."

Chuck nodded and leaned over to kiss her quickly but firmly on the mouth goodbye, before he guided Henry out the door.

It was Carter who loudly announced to crowd, "Show's over."

As Serena, Carter and Nate gathered together, looking to her for answers, Hugh's words kept ringing in her head—he sounded like a man _in love_. Blair looked to her friends apologetically and said, "I'm sorry, but I have to take care of something. I'll call you tomorrow."

Without another word, Blair ignored the looks of curiosity as she followed in hot pursuit towards the direction that Hugh had been dragged off to. She arrived, right as Neil was about to call the police and she stopped him.

"Neil, if you could please put him in an office and give us some privacy?"

The Palace's head of security looked up at her questioningly. "I'm sure Mr. Bass will be wanting me to call the police, especially after all the ruckus this man caused. He won't like you being alone with him, Miss Waldorf."

"Neil," Blair said authoritatively, "Chuck isn't here right now, but I am, and I want words with this gentleman, in private. Need I remind you how much weight I carry with your boss?"

He shifted uncomfortably. She knew he was thinking about their meeting two days ago, when she and Chuck had spontaneously decided to revisit his old suite at 1812. Chuck had introduced her as _the love of my life_, and then proceeded to not so subtly grope her while they waited for the elevator. If she hadn't been so turned on, she would have died of embarrassment.

"I would hate to have to tell Chuck when I get home, how you refused to follow my instructions," Blair stressed.

The minute stretched into an agonizingly painful one. Just as she was about to snap out a threat, Neil conceded. "If you'll give me just a moment, Miss Waldorf, let me find you a room."

"Thank you," she returned graciously. Blair did not need to push Neil's buttons so much so, that he would call Chuck to confirm that her words were law. While Chuck wouldn't undermine her authority in front of his staff, there would be hell to pay and punishment later. Until she extracted the information she needed, she wasn't sure if she was willing to suffer the consequences.

She looked at Hugh carefully, his nose was bleeding and his left eye was swelling up, his Clark Kent style black glasses slightly bent out of shape. Blair instructed one of the security guards to fetch her a bucket of ice and some towels. Turning towards Hugh, she asked, "If they release their hold on you, do I have your word that you won't run?"

He looked at her suspiciously. "Why should I trust you? Perhaps it's better if they call the police."

Blair stepped towards him and looked at him with contempt, concealing her secret joy that he was as apprehensive about her, as she was about him. "I think you should trust me, because I'm the only person who can help you—if you want to see Henry, that is. And based on your parting words and your behavior for the past month, I'm gauging that that's something you want very, very much."

"You would help me?"

"I don't know," Blair confessed honestly. "But I'm offering you a chance to convince me that you have her best interests at heart."

"But, after what I said about you," Hugh said haltingly, he had the good sense to look embarrassed.

"You do realize you were trading punches with my boyfriend? Chuck's the king of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time," she informed him wryly.

Neil chose that moment to return. "Miss Waldorf, my office is at your disposable. I took the liberty of having the items you requested put in there."

"Thank you, Neil. This could take quite a while." Blair signaled to the security guards to release their hold on Hugh. She gestured for him to follow Neil.

When he got inside the room, Neil guided him into the bathroom to clean up and then pulled her aside. "I would feel much more comfortable if one of my men kept watch, for your safety."

"I appreciate your concern, but I guarantee you, it will not be necessary. You can leave someone outside the door, if you like," she reassured him. "I will not forget your cooperation."

With a nod, he held the door open for her, and after she entered, he shut the door quietly behind her.

Blair walked towards the desk, and placed some ice in a towel. When Hugh finally emerged from the bathroom, she handed him the makeshift ice pack.

"Thank you," he said politely, as he gingerly placed it against his eye, wincing in pain.

She gave him a minute to settle in.

He spoke before she could. "I'm sorry, I haven't thanked you yet, for your kindness. I'm Matthew Lim."

He placed the ice pack down and extended a hand. She placed her hand in his. "Blair Waldorf."

Now that the niceties had been completed, she asked the question that plagued her the most. "If your name is Matthew, why on earth does Henry call you Hugh?"

A soft smile crossed his face, and Blair took that moment to take stock of Henry's love. He was handsome enough—not, of course, even as close as handsome as Chuck, but he was attractive. He had a style all his own, from his glasses, all the way down to the way he wore his tuxedo— one that resembled a suit, even opting for a neck tie over a bow tie.

"She had a lisp, as a child," he answered. "When we met, she couldn't pronounce the 't' sound, so she kept saying 'Ma-hue'. I teased her mercilessly, because she was the prettiest girl I had ever seen. But instead of getting mad, she just shrugged her shoulders and told me she was going to call me Hugh. Of course, I had to be difficult and start calling her Etta, because of the phonetic irony. I figured if she were going to refer to me as my last syllable, then I should return the favor. But she's the only one I let call me that, everyone else calls me Matt or Matthew."

Blair lips curved upwards as she observed the slight glow on his face. That might have been the cutest story she had ever heard.

"Can I ask _you_ something?" He broached cautiously.

She nodded.

"I don't quite understand your relation to Henry, or hers to Chuck. If you're telling me he's _your_ boyfriend…I get that I'm not in a position to be asking questions—"

"Henry and Chuck are like brother and sister," Blair interrupted. "The four of us are not all that dissimilar. I left Chuck years ago, and we've just recently found our way back. He and Henry have a surrogate-type relationship, she played his beard, while he was doing everything possible to try to win me back."

"Brother and sister?" Matthew said painfully. "This whole time, I said and did nothing, and they weren't even _romantically involved_?"

"What do you mean?" She asked curiously.

"How much do you know?"

"Enough."

"So you know what a complete idiot I was, back then?"

"I would agree with your choice of words."

"I just couldn't believe my luck that someone like her could love someone like me," he admitted. "I fell in love with her the first time I saw her, and even though she said it was the same for her, I just kept waiting for her to realize what a prize she was, and that I would never be enough for her."

This was becoming a familiar story, but Blair opted to say nothing.

"I was going to propose to her, you know, after her second year of college. I always knew I wanted to marry her, so I didn't see why we should wait. I never wanted her to go back to her uncle's house again. He used to parade her in front of his business associates, as if he were going to auction her off to the highest bidder. And because she had no other family, she just bit her tongue and said nothing. She wouldn't even tell me about it, because she didn't want to upset me. When she got into Stanford, it was even worse—and she only got a scholarship because I was at Berkeley. I didn't care if it was foolish, I didn't want her to ever have to go back to there and be subjected to that again. She never even told me she was pregnant! And when I got to the hospital, her uncle wouldn't let me see her. All he told me was that the procedure had some complications, but the baby was gone, and now everyone could move on with their life."

Blair watched as Matthew became glassy-eyed as he stared off into space. Her heart broke at his sadness, which equaled Henry's when she had relayed her version.

"It was every fear I had, confirmed—that she didn't really want to be with me, not if she had other options. So instead of demanding he let me see her, I ran. When school started that fall, she came to my dorm—every day for a month, but I refused to see her. Instead, I just transferred schools and disappeared. I didn't want to hear her lies, telling me that she wanted to be with me, when it was clear that her uncle had kicked her out. I couldn't bear the thought that I was her back-up plan, not when she was my first and only choice. So for the next two years, I lost myself in a haze of women, alcohol and drugs. But it didn't matter, no matter how much I obliterated I got, I couldn't stop seeing her in my head. I was still so angry and hurt.

"But about five years ago, my younger brother Mike starts dating an ex-classmate of hers—turns out that Etta had a miscarriage, and the father of her dead child rejected her. Do you have any idea what it felt like to hear that? That I doubted her, and instead, listened to her uncle—_a known scumbag_? Mike tried to press for details, but no one really knew anything. The only people who did were her ex-roommates, and they were keeping their lips sealed. I had no idea where she was, so I did the only thing I could think of—I went to her parents' grave every year on their memorial day. I'd camp out there from the minute they opened the gates, until they closed them. But she never came."

"What prompted the timing of all this? She's been going there for the past four years," Blair wondered aloud.

"I missed her that first year, because she was a day late—but Mike said someone we knew had spotted Etta in the city, and that she was living in New York. I tried to do all the research I could, but I was at a loss. The next year, I was determined to go for the entire week before and after if I had to, I couldn't miss my opportunity. But low and behold, when I finally get to see her, she's arrives _with Chuck Bass_. How the hell was I supposed to compete with that?" Matthew stared at Blair intently, almost as if he was daring her to challenge him.

When she kept quiet, he resumed his narrative. "Every time they're in San Francisco, I've followed them. It makes me feel like a complete psychopath, but I can't stop myself. It's so foolish, but I keep thinking that if I could just catch one drop of dissatisfaction she had with him, I could jump in. But he's been nothing but devoted—always so concerned and taking care of her! Every paper I could find in New York barely even references their low-key, are they or aren't they relationship. He had to be important to her, she'd never bring just _anyone_ to her parents' grave. And then last month, she shows up _alone_, and I think, this is finally my chance. I can finally beg her for forgiveness."

Blair prodded him, "What happened when you saw her?"

"For a minute, she looked _happy_. And it was as though time stood still—she let me hold her and for the first time in close to a decade, I felt like I was _home_. But when I opened my mouth, the words came out all wrong. I don't know what happened! I had waited so long for this moment, and all I could say was _I'm so sorry, please forgive me_. I felt like my voice was on a loop, over and over, the same words spilling out," he admitted, staring at his hands, juggling the ice pack from one hand to the other.

Abruptly he stood up, setting the makeshift towel on his chair and walking to the window that overlooked the city lights. "And then she ran from me. She won't let me get close enough to speak to her. I haven't been able to work or do anything—other than follow her around. I trailed her all over San Francisco and then back here. She's just shutting me out."

"Can you blame her?" Blair snorted. She couldn't wait to talk to Henry about this. It was ludicrous that both of them were in love with _idiots_.

"No," he whispered. He began to trace patterns on the windowpane in front of him. "You know, my company is releasing a new video game next week—I designed it as a love letter to her. Every little detail has some aspect of something we had once discussed wanting to change. Even the title—_Mercenary—_that's how I feel. Without her in my life, it's devoid of any joy."

She bit back the comment that was at the tip of her tongue, that no woman in her right mind would find a video game to be a romantic gesture. But then she reminded herself, that this was _Henry_ they were talking about, who wore _jeans_, lounged in _sweats_, and routinely kicked Chuck and Nate's ass on the PlayStation. And no matter what her personal opinion of those things were, the cadence in Matthew's voice was sincere. Blair was going to help him the way Henry had helped her.

"Do you love her?"

He looked at her strangely. "How is that even a question? I can't remember a moment in my life when I haven't loved her."

"It would behoove you to say those words to her," Blair scolded. "She told Chuck that you weren't still in love with her. Those are the type of misunderstandings that are best cleared up, immediately."

Matthew nodded. He appeared to her, completely immobilized. Finally, he asked in a morose tone, "How difficult is Chuck going to make things for me? Am I really never going to have a chance to speak to her, again?"

"Oh, he'll make it impossible," Blair announced. She could see he was so wrapped up in his own misery, that he didn't see the mischievous smile that played on her lips. "But fortunately for you, I'm his kryptonite. And I've decided that I'm going to help you."

The look of shock on his face was rather humorous. But when the shock turned into gratitude, it further cemented her belief that what she was about to do for him, would be the right thing for both him _and Henry_.

"So, this is my plan…"

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The distant ding of the private elevator alerted Blair to Chuck's return home, and broke her from recounting the events of last night.

"Blair?" He called out.

"In here," she answered back. She still sat curled up on a dining room chair.

When he appeared before her, he looked deliciously rumpled—his bow tie tucked into his breast pocket, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, a purplish bruise forming on his right eye and a tired smile on his face. He leaned against the wall and had a foil-wrapped plate in hand.

"I don't think I could ever get tired of seeing you in my clothes," Chuck said as his eyes lingered at the valley of her breasts—his silk robe was gaping and left very little to the imagination. He walked over and kissed her.

"I love coming home to you," he murmured against her lips.

Blair tugged on his coat lapels, her lips itching to make contact with his again. She sighed happily as his tongue slid into her mouth and danced with hers.

The clatter of the plate hitting the table drew her attention away from him. Pulling away, she looked curiously at it, before sending a questioning glance at him.

"Henry _insisted_ that I bring you home the cake she baked three hours ago," Chuck explained. "Chocolate chip bundt cake."

"Uhm, thank you?" Blair said sarcastically, while eyeing the plate suspiciously. She stood up, taking the desert with her and walked into the kitchen. "I'll just leave it here, for later."

Chuck followed her, watching as she set it next to the refrigerator. When she turned, she didn't expect to find him directly behind her. He lifted her up, and sat her on the counter.

"You look tired," Blair observed, reaching out to rub her thumb across the darkening bruise on his cheek. "Did you get any sleep?"

He shrugged. "I dozed off a bit here and there, but her damn oven timer kept going off. She was elbow deep in making lasagna when I left."

She rolled her eyes, amused by the unexciting play-by-play of his night. "You weren't joking when you said she was a stress cooker."

He shook his head. He leaned over and tugged on a drawer, digging out a fork. Chuck unwrapped the foil from the plate, and stabbed at the cake, grabbing a forkful. As he lifted the dessert, precariously close to her lips, he told her, "Speaking of which, she made me promise that you'd take at least one bite. She thinks you'd lie and throw it away or give it to the help. She's feeling mother hen-ish, so humor her, and have a taste?"

"It looks like a bake sale item, Chuck!" Blair whined.

Before she could continue with her rant, Chuck shoved the fork in her mouth, and her eyes closed shut. Whatever that was, it was absolutely heavenly, "Omigod, this is sooo fucking good!"

He chuckled as she grabbed the fork out of his hand, and fed herself another bite. She ignored him as she savored the feel of the moist chocolate cake on her tongue. "I thought you might feel differently when you tasted it. When Hen was in between apartments and stayed with Nate and I for a couple of weeks, I think we each gained about ten pounds."

His words barely registered, as she went for her third taste. She pouted in displeasure when Chuck snatched the fork back, placing it on the plate and out of her reach. He leaned over, his tongue tracing the outline of her upper lip and whispered, "You have a little something, right there."

The combination of chocolate cake and Chuck were too irresistible, and she encircled her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, her legs firmly wrapping themselves around his waist. He kissed her possessively and when he pulled away from her, she tried to catch her breath.

Chuck trailed a finger at the V of the robe, and Blair trembled in anticipation. His hands untied the silken belt that was tied into a bow, leaving her completely exposed to his eyes. He teasingly trailed feather-light kisses from ear all the way down to her breasts. As his teeth fastened on her nipple, she hissed in pleasure, cradling his head closer to her.

"Is this where you make good on the promise from earlier last night? That if I kept my mouth shut, you'd make it more than worth my while?" Blair asked. She arched her back and moaned, as the pressure from Chuck's tongue and hands increased the wetness that flooded between her legs.

She felt the nod of his head against her chest, as his hands tried to loosen the vise-like grip her thighs had around his waist. She could guess the direction that Chuck was headed in, but she desperately wanted him inside of her.

"The minute you whispered those words in my ear, it was all I could do not to drag you into the stairwell and demand satisfaction. I could practically feel you fucking me already," she taunted.

Her hands trailed down to his waist and she fumbled with his belt buckle. He kissed her roughly, biting at her mouth while pulling at her hair. A moment later, he slid inside her, thrusting into her, again and again. There was no gentleness, as pure lust overtook them both. He pinned her wrists against the cabinets and drove into her again, until she chanted his name. She collapsed against him, and he followed soon after.

"God, I fucking love you, so much," Chuck breathed into her neck, when he regained the use of his voice. He pressed soft kisses against her slightly reddened wrists.

He scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed.

As he spooned her in their bed, he said softly in her ear, "I'm sorry that your night was ruined, Blair."

"It's ok," she yawned back. "I know you didn't do it on purpose."

"I'll have to make it up to you," he said sleepily.

She shifted so she could bury her face in his chest and throw her leg over his. But before she could say a word, he was already fast asleep. She smiled and drifted with him.

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The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Blair's, staring back at him. A slow grin crossed his face, as he reached out and pulled her closer to him. There was still that slight thrill of excitement he felt when he woke up next to her, it definitely was remaining at the top of his all-time favorite sensations.

Blair's hands were freely roaming up and down his back, and he purred in contentment. .

"Morning." Her voice was muffled as she bit him playfully on the chest.

"What time is it?"

"Just past one."

"So we have enough time to _linger_ before getting up," he hinted devilishly as his hands cupped her bottom. "At least for an hour?"

"That could be arranged…" her voice trailed off teasingly.

He wanted the luxury of doing nothing but enjoy his girlfriend on a lazy Sunday afternoon. And for the next hour, he set out to do exactly just that.

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.

"So, I know I told you that I would make it up to you about last night," Chuck started to say, almost two hours later. The hint of satisfaction oozed from his voice.

"But?"

"I don't think it's advisable to leave Hen to her own devices for the whole day."

Blair remained silent. Chuck buried his head into her curls, squeezing her body tightly against his, before continuing. "I never thanked you for handling the situation with Hugh. Were the police any trouble?"

Blair paused before answering. "Not at all."

He sighed. "Good. Did they arrest him? Neil filed a report?"

Again, he noticed her slow response. "It was all taken care of, Chuck. It's fine, don't worry about it."

"Let's call Serena and her boy toy, Nate and Henry. We can go grab drinks?" Chuck glanced at the clock that read 2:46 pm. "Or a _very_ late lunch?"

"I think it's best if we leave Henry alone, she was practically begging you to leave yesterday—"

"Only because she felt as badly as I did, that your night was ruined," Chuck interrupted.

"_Our night_," Blair corrected. He could hear her eyes narrowing. "Besides, she's probably busy."

"Yeah, busy cooking," he snorted. "If we don't stop her, she'll literally have two weeks worth of food, including more cakes. We need Nate to take the bulk of her cooking—it'll be part of his punishment. Hen will push all that food onto us, you know."

Blair let out a forced laugh. She hesitated before answering, "I think we should just let her call us."

Her lack of enthusiasm could no longer be ignored. She was being far too evasive, which could only mean one thing—she knew something that he did not. He shifted their bodies, so that they were facing each other. Chuck tipped her chin so their eyes met. "What do you know, that you aren't telling me?"

Blair looked downwards. She outright refused to look at him before she mumbled her words, "I think Henry's going to be a bit occupied—talking to Hugh."

He shot up into a sitting position. "Why would you think that?"

When Blair didn't answer him, he jumped out of bed. Grabbing his phone, he started to pace the room. "I'll have to call fucking security. She doesn't need to deal with this shit, not after last night."

As he was scrolling through his phone, debating on calling Kevin at BI or Neil at The Palace, Blair dropped yet another bomb on him, "I doubt that's going to help, considering Hugh has a copy of the key to Henry's apartment."

"Do _not_ tell me what I'm thinking right now is true."

"I gave him your copy of her apartment key," she told him in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Are you fucking out of your mind?" Chuck hissed. "How could you do that to her? To me? I have to get over there."

He stalked over to his closet, pulling on the first pair of pants he found. As he reached for a shirt, Blair followed him and placed a hand on his arm.

"I know you're trying to protect her, but you're also inhibiting her from living her own life. He _loves_ her, Chuck. He loves her the way _you_ love _me_. I _know_ she loves him the way I love you, so please, just let him explain.

"How can you trust him? Because he _told_ you so?" He scoffed. Anger radiated through his body, he couldn't believe Blair had gone behind his back like this. He couldn't even look at her right now. He walked out of the closet and sat at the edge of the bed.

She stood in front of him and gripped his chin, trying to force him to look at her. He closed his eyes so he could avoid her mesmerizing ones, eyes that would convince him that she was right. When she burrowed her way onto his lap and rested her head on his shoulder, his body relaxed slightly. It was moments like this that unsettled him, how she could both be the cause and the cure for his anger.

"I know I can trust him," Blair said softly. "Because he's been carrying an engagement ring he bought for her nine years ago, before he ever knew she was pregnant. It's been sitting in his pocket for the past four years. He's been waiting you know, he thought she was happy with _you_. But ever since he saw her at her parents' grave with you, the second time you went, he's had the ring in his pocket, just hoping for a chance."

Chuck's body tensed up. He knew that all too familiar feeling—carrying around a ring he could only pray he'd earn the opportunity to present to her again.

Translating his silence as an indicator to continue, Blair said, "I know I can trust him, because in the two hours I spent talking to him last night, he convinced _me_ that he loves her and that he hasn't stopped for one moment. And much like someone else I know, he doesn't think he deserves her."

Despite the fact that he knew exactly what she was hinting at, he chose to be unreasonable. He accused her, "You're taking the side of someone you spent two hours talking to over someone I've known for _four years_?"

With a look of annoyance she snapped, "How long did Henry know _me_, before she handed me your house key? I've heard their history from both of them—they match, Chuck, and I believe him. If I believe him, that should be good enough. Or are you now starting to question my judgment, too?"

"It's not your ability to assess his character I'm questioning. You should've asked me first before you handed out Hen's key to him. You _know_ how I felt, what I said to her when I found out she went behind my back by giving you my key!" He said in exasperation.

"Why are you so upset? It worked out to your advantage, we're together. I _know_ Henry wants to be with him, she's told me she's still in love with him. And now, I know Hugh still loves her and wants to be with her. Why can't you let him try to make it up to her?"

"Because, I can never make it up to you!" Chuck felt the color drain from his face as he realized the words that he said. He gently pushed Blair off of him and stood up as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Chuck!" Blair said sadly. "I thought we were putting this behind us."

"I'm trying," he said tersely. "But I need to be alone right now."

Gently, Blair asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

"What?" Chuck sputtered. "Of course not."

He started to pace again, he didn't know quite how to explain it to her. It still infuriated him the manner in which she unveiled her actions to him. He just needed a spot of time to sulk and pout. But the last thing he wanted was for her to not be close by. Knowing him, he'd want to crawl back into bed with her, and rest his head on her stomach, as she soothingly stroked his hair. Even though she was the source of his aggravation, she was the only one who could make it go away. His eyes closed briefly. "I'll be in the office down the hall for the next couple of hours."

Blair nodded.

In a slightly bitter tone, he continued, "If, as you say, Henry will be occupied for the evening—and don't think that I'm not going to send security to camp outside her building—that'll leave us free for dinner."

He had to set aside the issue with the key and Hugh, for now. It was completely separate from Blair's spoiled evening, last night. In a couple of hours the sting would wear off, and Chuck knew this—just as he knew he was at least slightly overreacting to begin with. He paused. "Tonight is the 10th anniversary of Per Se*, and while it won't have the same cache as last night's charity event, I'm assuming there won't be as much excitement either. If it's amenable to you, I'd love for you to be my date."

Blair's beaming smile reassured him that things were going to be ok.

_Two steps forward, one step back_.

"I'd love too," she said serenely.

He walked across the bedroom and pressed a kiss on her cheek, before heading towards the door. Just as she was about to enter the bathroom, he called over his shoulder, "Oh, and Blair?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

.

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_tbc_

* * *

*technically, it'd be their 11th year anniversary, and a few months shy, but I took liberty on a small detail, because it worked for me, please forgive me.

A/N: Deepest apologies for taking so long. This fic has not been abandoned, there has just been lots of outlining going on—extremely detailed outlines leaving my brain and being committed to paper so that the final chapters are as tight as possible. The next chapter should be up in about a week. And seriously, even though it's apparently my favorite number, I have it at 3 more chapters and then an epilogue. Excuse me if there are more typos than usual, I'm literally falling asleep as we speak, so I may have missed more than usual.

For my beta, Noirreigne, who tirelessly works on helping make my fic better, I cannot thank you enough.

For my omega, Ilu, thank you for being my timeline enforcer.

For the readers and reviewers who are still reading my story and enjoying it, THANKS! You really do motivate me, and I appreciate your time.

I am still for the most part delightfully oblivious to what's going on in GG, _including_ the promo—_NO_ I haven't watched it…and I won't! So, please, no comments about events post 4x11.


	22. i love you too much

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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Blair sat on the couch in the corner of Chuck's office, flipping through four course catalogues for the Spring semester. She had been relieved to find out yesterday that all four of the universities had tendered her offers to enter their MBA program. Subconsciously, she had already decided that Yale was out—the two years she had spent there had been more than enough. As for Princeton, well, it just hadn't wowed her. She was really struggling between choosing from Cornell and NYU. Cornell had been a top five MBA program that had fallen off in recent years, only to be re-emerging as a top three program, while NYU was still solidly in the top ten.

She could imagine the voices of her mother and father, as well as Serena, questioning cautiously if she was only considering NYU because of Chuck. Of course there was some truth to that, but truthfully, Blair knew that she was still embittered about her experience from the first time around. Even though she knew NYU had never been for her—it still felt like a failure, but attending for an MBA was far, far different than starting her collegiate career there. She knew with absolutely certainty that she would be extremely focused on her studies, and she didn't know if she could bear being four hours away from Chuck in Ithaca. He helped ground her—in a way she never relied on her freshman year.

The timbre of his voice echoed into her corner of the room, and she looked up and watched Chuck engage in his business call. There was a thrill of both pride and excitement to see him absorbed in his element. The naughty part of her longed to do nothing more than slip under his desk, fall to her knees and distract him with her mouth. A quick glance at her watch indicated that his call was scheduled to be over in less than ten minutes, and he _had _promised her lunch. With a sigh she conceded to herself, that they would just have to make use of the limo instead, en route to the restaurant, the way they had Sunday night, on their way back from Per Se.

To say she had been delighted that Chuck had surprised her at their table, by including Serena and Carter in a foursome, was an understatement. To top it off, Chuck and Carter hadn't acted like pouty three year olds. It was as if there had been some understanding the moment Carter had aided Chuck in defending her name after Hugh's comment. Or perhaps, they just realized that it would make her and Serena much, much happier if they just got along—it wasn't like they were asking them to become best friends. And fittingly, Serena, much like she was, was rewarding Carter for his behavior the same way she was Chuck—with pure sexual torture. More than thrice, Chuck had pinned her hand away from its precariously close position near his crotch.

Of course, Chuck had retaliated by veering the conversation to real estate, inquiring as to where Carter and Serena had planned on settling. Serena had interrupted to tell them that they were house hunting, and she couldn't wait to find a place that was just _theirs_. Chuck's eyes had met Blair's, giving her a soft look before an impish one had crossed his face. He had then encouraged Carter to make sure that when they remodeled, not to forget to the importance of customization—things such as the height of kitchen counters. Chuck causally advised that one should never underestimate how useful those seemingly insignificant details could be crucial when enjoying one's home.

Carter had been unable to stop himself from leaning over and shaking Chuck's hand, while simultaneously thanking him for imparting his wisdom. Blair was certain that she was bright red all over, as even her chest had taken on a pinkish hue. Even Serena had giggled before she shot her a sympathetic look.

But it was Blair who had the last laugh, however—as her phone conveniently buzzed a moment later. When she had read her text, a sly smile of satisfaction crossed her face, as she beckoned for Chuck to lean over to read. The message from Henry had read: _Thank you for everything! Will you please tell your boyfriend that I won't be making it into the office until Tuesday? I can't wait until you officially become my sister! _

She had been so pleased that her meddling had worked in Henry's favor, that she almost missed the expression on Chuck's face. The look of pained wistfulness had caused her to smile to falter, as she had wondered which ghost it was that was haunting him now. Before Blair could voice her concern, Carter and Serena had drawn her attention, asking for the contents of the text. By the time she had looked back, any trace of unpleasantness had disappeared from Chuck's face. She had placed her hand on his thigh—only this time for comfort, not to torment. The feel of Chuck's hand covering hers had made her relax, dropping any further inquiries for the night.

When they had gotten into the limo, Chuck had attacked her so quickly, that before she could even open her mouth to say a word, he had already slid inside of her. There was an intensity to him that had left her breathless and wanting more. And although she knew Chuck would feel guilty about it when they got home, she couldn't wait to see the evidence of his impatience and lust for, the finger-sized bruises that would no doubt appear on her hips.

A self-satisfied smile crossed her face as Blair unconsciously brought a hand to her hip, pressing lightly to feel the slight pain of her many bruises. She looked towards Chuck again, his face in serious concentration as he simultaneously flipped through a report while barking out questions. Blair licked her lips as she watched him—being with Chuck again, had turned her into a complete wanton. He was so _hot_ when he exerted the power that came with being the CEO. Perhaps, she _couldn't_ wait until they reached the limo on their way to lunch.

Chuck abruptly ended his call, swearing in frustration. Before Blair could even open her mouth to offer a way to help release his stress, the door slammed open as a glowing Henry bounced into the room.

"Good morning!" She sang.

Blair couldn't stop the smile that stretched on her face. She teased, "It's past noon, that _hardly_ qualifies as morning. But it's nice to see that someone finally decided to show up to work. Tsk, tsk, setting such a bad example for the rest of the staff!"

"Oh, there was definitely some merging and acquiring going on," Henry said with a wink.

"Fucking Christ, Hen! Did I really need to hear that?" Chuck growled as he stared at her nonplussed.

Henry skipped over to Chuck, who still sat at his desk, and ruffled his hair, playfully. Blair didn't even suppress her laughter as he scowled. At that moment, the light sparkled off of Henry's finger. Jumping up, Blair practically ran across the room, and grabbed Henry's left hand. The very simple and modest sapphire ring was newly acquired and the two women looked at each other—squealing first and then hugging.

"Congratulations!" Blair murmured in her ear.

"Thank you!" Henry whispered back.

When Henry pulled away, she looked so happy, Blair thought she just might burst. But of course, she couldn't resist making her opinions known. "Henry, really, couldn't he afford a nicer ring? It's so…_plain_. And don't think I didn't have his financials pulled over the weekend—he can afford something _much, much_ nicer than _that_."

Henry made a face at her, and before she could respond, Chuck interrupted. "Care to share?"

Blair cringed at his sharp tone.

"Well, this might be a bit unoriginal," Henry said theatrically, turning towards him. Then as Serena had done to her a couple of nights before, she thrust her ring finger into Chuck's face. "I'm getting married!"

"Congratulations," Chuck said flatly.

Sticking her tongue out at him, Henry proclaimed, "You are seriously the worst brother I could have picked."

He remained motionless and expressionless.

"Chuck! I'm getting _married_!" Henry giggled. "Gimme a hug already!"

He stood up and gave her a half-hearted and lukewarm embrace.

"Seriously?" Henry asked as the smile faded from her face. "That's the best you've got?"

Chuck shrugged.

"Well…" Henry attempted to provoke a reaction again. "I guess it's a good thing that when Hugh asked me to marry him, he also asked me to move back to San Francisco with him, and I said yes to both."

Blair's eyes widened in surprise. How had it never occurred to her that Hugh would want Henry to move for him, and that she obviously wouldn't hesitate for one moment? She watched as Chuck's jaw clenched.

Blithely, Henry continued on, "So, you can consider this my two weeks notice. He said he'd understand if I needed to stay a month or longer, even. But since the boss is my bratty little brother, I told him I was sure that two weeks would be sufficient, and I could telecommute if necessary, right?"

"Unfortunately," Chuck said coldly. "You signed a one year contract. It's barely been two months since we made the announcement. Sorry, but you know what a difficult decision it was to give you the promotion. In order to maintain the look of propriety, it would be advisable that I hold you to your contract."

"Chuck!" Blair hissed.

"_Fuck you_," Henry snapped. "Are you really pulling this shit on me? How dare you!"

"How dare I what?" Chuck said derisively. "How dare I run a business?"

"You're _mad_ at me? That's your response? I'm getting fucking married and you're lecturing me about my lack of work ethic?" Henry raised her voice. Glaring at him, she continued to rant, "If this was Blair, and you told me you were going to follow her to the ends of the earth, I would support you—one hundred and ten percent! Hell, I'd fucking buy you the plane ticket and drive you to the airport myself!"

Blair took that as a sign to evacuate. As fun as it would be to watch Chuck and Henry engage in this battle, she did not want to have to take sides. Especially since she knew how grumpy he would get when she sided against him. She swept up her course catalogues and edged her way to the door.

"See what you've done! You're making Blair want to leave!" Henry taunted as Blair quietly closed the door behind her.

"Don't bring Blair into this," Chuck growled. His nerves started to prickle at the words _Blair_ and _leave_ in the same sentence.

"Oh, is she off-limits, now? I'm not allowed to talk about her? Mention her name? Hmm…when did you post that memo?" She goaded him.

"_Hen_," he warned.

"_Chuck_," she mimicked back.

He refused to be baited by her—especially when he knew his explanation would be the source of another argument. There was simply too much happening in his life, and far too quickly—it felt like his world was spinning out of control. As is, he was barely clinging on, he was getting swept away by the tide of constant action, yet he had no say in theses changes. The last five years had been tedious, boring and painful—but it was what Chuck had chosen for himself. Now, suddenly, everyone was making decisions for him—changing the landscape of his life, and he didn't even have a say. This loss of control was making him resort to behavior patterns he thought he had long tucked behind him—lashing out.

When he remained silent, Hen opened her mouth to continue, but then unexpectedly, the anger deflated from her. She looked upset, as if she were about to cry. Chuck cursed himself, not _again_, but before he could apologize she asked in a small voice, "Isn't this what we both wanted the whole time? For the other to be happy and in love?"

"Hen—" Chuck started.

"The timing couldn't have been more perfect, if we planned it ourselves," she rushed on. "Look how lucky we are! You're with Blair, I'm with Hugh, we can both be happy for each other without feeling guilty that the other is stuck alone—still waiting. Didn't we always joke how great it would be if for once the gods smiled at us instead of laughed?"

Her words cut to the core—she was absolutely right, they _had_ talked about this, _too much_, actually.

"I couldn't be happier for you—well, I mean, I could be, if you weren't being such an ass about the whole 'trial period' thing—but, you get what I mean. Are you really not happy for me?" She looked at him expectantly.

He let out a sigh as he walked over towards her. While Hen could make being an ass come off as kind of sweet, he just managed to _be_ one. He drew her into a hug and swung her in a circle. "Of course I'm thrilled for you, Hen. _Congratulations._"

She let out a laugh as she hit him playfully on the shoulder. "Really? You mean it?"

Chuck rolled his eyes and nodded.

"And you'll be nice to Hugh?" Henry asked hopefully.

"I'll try," he grumbled. "No promises, though."

"If you're nice to him, I promise I will _never_ bring up the fact that you punched him repeatedly the first time you two met," Henry offered cajolingly. "I want you to meet him, Chuck. I think you would really like him, if you gave him a chance. Maybe dinner _tonight,_ with Blair?"

"If I say no?" He rolled his eyes, as if _he _would have any say in this. Knowing Blair, not only would she _want_ to, in fact, she would insist on it. And this time she would not consent to _just_ drinks, it would be a full meal, followed by dessert _and_ she would want _bonding time_ afterwards.

"Well, then I guess in retaliation, I'd have to drag Hugh into your office after hours and have sex on your desk."

"I'm officially scarred for life," Chuck said in disgust.

"So that's yes to dinner?"

"_Fine_."

"And once your stupid trial period is over, you can ask Blair to marry you!" Hen teased.

Chuck gave her a look that had the smile fading from her face, as she shook her head in confusion.

"I see," she said quietly.

"I don't want to talk about this," he said tersely.

With a loud sigh, she asked, "Do you think we should go put Blair out of her misery? Let her know we've made up and that we're double dating tonight?"

He nodded his consent, and she bounded out the door to tell Sam her good news as well as look for Blair.

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Dinner that night was beyond illuminating. There was something about watching Henry interact with Hugh that made Chuck feel like he had never known her at all. And as much as he was _loathe_ to admit, he actually _did_ like Hugh—they didn't have much in common—but then again, it wasn't like he and Hen did either. But Hugh had a secret charm to him that Chuck hadn't expected. When Hen had been babbling how she _just knew _that they would get along if they tried, in her over-excited voice, Hugh had simply dead-panned, _yes, now that you've waved your magic wand, it'll be perfect, and we'll hold hands and frolic through the woods together in harmony._ Hen had looked beyond putout, Blair had clamped her hand over her mouth in mirth and Chuck had been amused. And Chuck couldn't help but admire Hugh as he hadn't even flinched as Hen continuously punched him in the arm while he had told some of her more embarrassing childhood stories.

After that, Chuck stopped trying to be the protective brother and find flaws—because even though Hen had shot daggers at Hugh, it hadn't stopped her from lacing her fingers with his, nor did it diminish her glow. But the most important thing was the way Hugh so clearly adored Hen, just as much as she did him. Somehow they found the balance of being nauseatingly sweet, but utterly real. He finally got it—Hugh was her match, like Blair was his. Chuck had ignored Blair's triumphant _I-told-you-so_ looks throughout dinner, but he still kept an arm around her the entire evening, while the other played with her hand underneath the table.

And when Blair suggested going to The Modern for dessert, Hugh had smiled politely but firmly put his foot down—that they had done the fancy UESer thing for dinner, but that wasn't going to suffice for dessert—he wanted something sweet, not a piece of art. Hen and Hugh, _H-squared_ Chuck had started to think of them as, dragged them to an old-fashioned ice cream parlour—ordering a hot fudge and caramel sundae, with extra whipped cream and cherries on top. Blair had watched in horror as she realized that was only the first order. Chuck had interjected smoothly and insisted that one was more than enough for him and Blair to share. Hugh had shrugged and told him to suit himself as he continued ordering. As the four of them had sat in the booth, he and Blair both watched in morbid fascination as their counterparts polished of their individual sundaes with gusto.

Hen and Hugh had also declined the offer to be driven back to her apartment—they were going to opt to walk. After handshakes and hugs were doled out, plans confirmed for later in the week, the pair had held hands as they meandered off. Chuck had paused for a moment, as Blair slid into the limo before him, staring after them. Halfway down the block Hugh had stopped walking and tugged Hen into his arms and kissed her so intensely, that Chuck had felt if he was almost intruding on the moment simply by watching. The contrasting emotions of relief and jealousy flooded him—but he shook his head free of the doubts and slipped into the awaiting vehicle.

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There was no trace of a ballroom left as the room had been completely transformed into a gamer's paradise. There was a gigantic flat screen TV at one end of the room that played trailers for various video games. Approximately two dozen smaller sized TVs with game consoles were scattered throughout, surrounded by large plush chairs. Tonight was the industry-only, launch party for _Mercenary_, and at the behest of Hugh—Chuck, Blair, Carter, Serena, Nate, Dorota and Vanya were all invited as VIP guests. Henry had crowed that she finally had the upper hand to an event that would have been difficult for even _Chuck_ to get so many tickets to!

Chuck watched the flurry of activity below, the room was filled with mostly men in their late twenties to early thirties, shouting and groaning as they tested out the highly anticipated game. He noted in amusement that this was one of the few events he could attend with Blair and not worry in the slightest about having to fend off some overly eager jackass who couldn't take the hint that she not only was she not interested, she was taken—_by him_. The men easily outnumbered women by about 10-to-1, and while it wasn't that the men didn't appreciatively leer at Blair and the two women he thought of as sisters, it's just that they found the game in front of them, slightly more appealing.

A smile crossed his face as he watched Dorota and Henry dance triumphantly, taunting Vanya and Nate over their hotly contested victory. A couple of feet away he saw the mounting frustration that crossed Carter's face, as he was attempting to explain to Blair and Serena how to use the Xbox controller. He couldn't help but laugh as he saw Blair's eyes narrow as she detected impatience from Serena's fiancé. This entire evening felt a bit odd, truthfully, as he realized that these people not only served as his friends—they were his family, too. He couldn't actually remember having real friends other than Nathaniel before.

The feel of a hand on his shoulder startled him, as he turned to find a mischievous looking Hugh standing at his side. With a smile on his face, Hugh nodded towards the balcony behind him as he made the universal gesture of smoking a joint. Chuck quirked a brow and his lips twisted into a grin, as they slipped outside into the cool evening.

"Does Hen know?" Chuck asked curiously as Hugh handed him a fat joint and the lighter.

"Considering this is her stash, I'm going to take a wild stab and say yes."

The words were timed a bit too perfectly—just as Chuck had lit the joint and inhaled, it was destined that he would cough uncontrollably, choking on the smoke. He just managed to save the blunt from slipping through his fingertips, as he collected himself. He took another hit before handing it off.

Hugh smirked at him, clearly pleased with himself. "You didn't know that Etta's a part-time stoner? Why do you think she bakes so much? _Munchies_. I always tell her that's when she won me over, when she started bringing over the brownies, cookies and cakes—I wasn't really in love with her until then. Has she ever made you her _special_ chocolate mint bars? I almost proposed when she first made them for my 18th birthday."

Chuck couldn't help but laugh at his words, as a dreamy look appeared on Hugh's face.

"I'm totally going to make her bake them when we get home," Hugh announced. He glanced at Chuck reassuringly. "Don't worry, I'll have her save a couple for you and Blair."

He tried to picture the image of Blair Waldorf high on pot food and wondered how different it would be from the handful of times that she had been stoned in their youth. "I'm not sure Blair will have a full appreciation for them, and please don't deprive yourself of any on our account."

Hugh stared at him in disappointment as he passed the joint back to him. "Suit yourself."

Chuck took a deep drag, reveling in the feel of the smoke that filled his lungs—it was such a rarely indulged in habit. When he had taken over Bass Industries, one by one his indulgent habits had fallen to the wayside—save for scotch, but he hadn't imbibed as much as he once did. His mind scrambled to recall if he had ever smoked out with Hen before, but his mind kept drawing blanks. At the infancy of their friendship, they had passed time by obliteration—there were many a drunken night filled with liquor and Xbox. Come to think of it…there was the one time they had gotten beyond faded with Nathaniel, but it was just something that had never really been discussed. It had been shortly after that, when they started drinking less and becoming actual friends more.

He turned to stare at Hen's fiancé who was smoking leisurely and looked perfectly content. Hugh looked the part of someone who had everything he wanted and not a worry in the world. Even the manner in which he had volunteered Hen's baking services—it all reeked of complete entitlement and ease.

The jealousy from the other night flooded back. Hugh had just waltzed in and claimed Hen as though he had every right to do so. Chuck desperately just wanted to know how he did it, and he couldn't stop the words from spilling out of him. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" Hugh responded cautiously.

"Let her forgive you," Chuck whispered. He felt his cheeks flush in color, surprised by how much he had revealed.

Hugh looked at him sympathetically, understanding the confusion that was woven into the query. Instead of speaking, he paused and took a long drag of the joint before offering it to him again. Chuck shook his head. Honestly, he just wanted an answer to his question. He wanted to a how-to guide on quashing the guilt that seemingly never disappeared. He wanted to be able to forgive himself so that he could make Blair happy, but he didn't know _how_. All night he had been forced to watch as Carter and Hugh played the role of doting fiancés. Hugh had barely been back in the picture for a week, and already he was firmly ensconced in happiness. Whatever their secret was, he needed to find out, before he drove both Blair and himself absolutely insane.

Finally, Hugh responded quietly. "You don't."

Chuck argued back, "I see the way you are with her, and—"

"You never forgive yourself fully," Hugh interrupted with a sigh. "But, you look at her, and when she looks at you like you are the only thing that matters in the world and you're all that she wants—you suck it up and let it go. Beating yourself up over it isn't going to change the fact that it happened. And when you look at her, and know that she is the only thing that makes life worthwhile, you let yourself deserve her. Because her happiness is the only thing that should matter and you thank god every day that _she chose you_."

He let the words swim over him—it was nothing that he hadn't tried to tell himself before.

"Does it get easier?" Chuck asked, before he could reign in his words.

"It has to," Hugh said sagely. "You get to be with her. And there's nothing better than that."

Chuck looked over at the man Henry was going to marry and wished that he could live those words.

"I know I've only met her all of three times, but I can tell that Blair loves you as much as Henry loves me," Hugh continued. "It's a gift—don't get so wrapped up in trying to undo a wrong that you squander the second chance."

He remained silent and let his eyes stare unfocused at the street below him. He wanted to argue that their situation wasn't the same, that what Hugh had done to Hen was not an apt comparison.

As though he sensed the dark nature of Chuck's thoughts, Hugh resumed talking once more. "I mean, it's the same thing as you turning down Hen's chocolate mint bars laced with THC, seriously, you have no clue what mouthfuls of deliciousness you're passing up on."

Chuck smiled weakly, appreciating the gesture of lightening the mood. Before he could articulate his thanks, the moment was broken by the addition of two people making their presence known in the doorway.

"I told you they were hiding out and lighting up. I can't believe you questioned my sense of smell," Carter scoffed at Nate.

"Dude, I told you that Chuck doesn't smoke that often—almost never. How was I to know that Hugh would corrupt the CEO of Bass Industries?" Nate defended.

Carter rolled his eyes as he held his hand out, demanding that Hugh pass him the joint.

"This one's just about done," Hugh answered apologetically as he slipped his hand in his pocket. He fished around before removing a small plastic baggie that held four additional, neatly rolled joints. "But please, help yourself."

"Score!" Nate cheered as he and Carter exchanged fist bumps.

As Nate handed each of them a joint, and passed around a lighter, Chuck couldn't help but laugh—there they stood, four grown men on a balcony—smoking out. The more things changed the more things stayed the same. Instead of focusing on the self-doubt, Chuck allowed himself to mentally step away from his inner turmoil and enjoy the company of his friends for the evening.

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One by one, their party had disintegrated slowly, as the evening had progressed. Hugh had been making the rounds all evening and stopped by intermittently, sometimes only to wrap his arms around Henry's waist and whisper into her ear. Chuck had excused himself next, having had an unavoidable business call and disappeared upstairs into the VIP lounge area. Dorota and Vanya had wandered off to investigate the impressive spread that spanned two large tables with every food snack imaginable. Nate and Carter had been arguing in hushed voices, until finally they disappeared together—claiming they needed to speak to Chuck.

As a waiter made his rounds with a tray full of champagne flutes, Henry flagged him down and swiped three glasses off the tray. Blair couldn't help but note that the light seemed drawn to the modest sapphire on Henry's hand, and the gem sparkled as she handed a glass to both her and Serena.

"Why doesn't my ring twinkle like that?" Serena faux pouted. "I never even got to see your ring earlier! Come on, let me see it!"

With a small smile, Henry extended out her hand as Serena lifted it close to her face, examining the very, very classic sapphire ring. Exchanging a glance with Blair, and then looking around the festivities, she stared back at Henry. "The stone, itself is divine, but I'd demand a bigger one, if I were you, not that it isn't sufficient, but it's just that—_sufficient_. From the looks of it, your fiancé can more than afford a much nicer one."

Henry shook her head before responding. "This one is perfect for me. It's the one I had hoped Hugh would buy me, if he ever proposed. And knowing he bought it all those years ago, makes it more special. I mean, your ring is _gorgeous_, Serena, but something like that wouldn't suit me."

Serena sighed comically at Henry's logic, and Blair bit back a smile. The residual resentment between the two girls was completely gone, and while they enjoyed one another's company, it looked as though they were never going to achieve best friend status.

Suddenly, Serena's eyes lit up in understanding. "Oooohhhhh! It's just like Chuck's ring for Blair! Have you seen it? That utterly amazing 8-carat diamond of perfection?"

Henry nodded excitedly. Both girls were completely unaware of the discomfort that flooded Blair, as she plastered on a smile.

"I never thought I would like a diamond, and such a large one at that," Henry admitted. "But the one time Chuck pulled it out of the safe to show me, I nearly died."

"I know! It's _soooo_ Blair, too. Unique, classic and a total _I'm so much better than you_ statement ring!" Serena turned to Blair and asked, "When do you think Chuck's going to propose? And aren't you dying to finally try that ring on? I can't believe you've never even tried it on! Hasn't it killed you for the past five years, knowing that it's there, just waiting for you?"

Blair shifted in her seat uncomfortably and she didn't quite meet either of the girls' eyes. This was not a topic she wished to discuss, _especially_, since Serena was exactly right. She was _dying_ to try on that ring and she wanted it where it rightfully belonged—on her finger.

"Where did the boys go?" Blair evaded the question, making a show of looking around as though she only just now noticed the absence of their male counterparts.

"Most likely they're in the process of getting stoned," Henry volunteered quickly, realizing just how uncomfortable she and Serena had made her feel.

Both Serena and Henry looked at her apologetically—they should have known better than to broach this topic, but they had simply got lost in their own excitement. Blair genuinely couldn't be happier for both of them—but it didn't mean that she was free from the occasional pangs of petty jealousy. She bit down on the inside of her mouth to keep the tears from appearing.

"WHAT?" Serena asked too loudly, overselling the less than subtle attempt of changing the subject. "And we weren't invited?"

The girls looked around the room, their eyes drawn to the empty lounge area on the upper level. And as if on cue, Nate, Hugh, Carter and Chuck came inside from the balcony, laughing loudly. Blair's heart skipped a beat as Chuck's eyes found hers. He gazed at her with a combination of tenderness and lust, as though he wanted to whisk her away into an empty hallway and have his way with her. The knot that had been in her stomach slowly untied itself—when he looked at her that way, it was impossible to have any doubt.

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The next couple of weeks flew by in a chaotic tumble and Blair felt that she barely had a minute to herself.

When the movers had come to empty out Henry's apartment, she tried to convince Chuck and Blair that they weren't saying goodbye, just an _I'll see you soon_. But just as the final box had been carried out and her apartment was completely vacant, reality seemed to sink in for all four of them—this was the end of a previous chapter in their lives. Blair and Hugh discreetly left the two siblings alone, wanting to insure that they'd have privacy to say their goodbyes. The pair emerged out of the apartment about fifteen minutes later, Hen teary-eyed and Chuck a bit sullen. As the car pulled up to take Hen and Hugh to the airport, hugs were exchanged and promises of visits were already being planned. Chuck had hugged Blair tightly as they watched the car whisk Henry out of their day-to-day lives.

And if that hadn't been enough of an emotional drain, Serena became completely fixated on planning her dream wedding. Blair didn't know what had sparked it, but when Serena had pulled her aside and started to discuss in detail, all her wants for the ceremony and the reception, Blair hadn't been able to keep from smiling. It seemed that contrary to popular belief, Serena wanted a wedding with all the trimmings.

"You never did strike me as the type who would want a long engagement, S," Blair admitted.

"Since when is a month considered a long engagement?" Serena asked confusedly.

"Surely you don't mean _this July_, as in next month, do you?" Blair asked horrified.

"What else do you think I meant? I want to marry Carter, and I want to be married to him by the end of next month," she answered with conviction. "That's what I meant when I said a _July_ bride.

"What's with all the rush? Carter's not going anywhere," Blair said in exasperation as she rolled her eyes. In a condescendingly tone, she informed her best friend, "Do you have any idea how much work it takes to plan a wedding—one with all the bells and whistles you just described? You can't just snap your fingers and make it all happen, just because _Serena van der Woodsen_ wants it to."

"This isn't about Carter. Why do you even care that I want to get married next month?" Serena snapped. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and Blair felt a lump in her throat—it was the look that she got when she was about to say something particularly nasty. What had she said that had put S's back against the wall?

Very deliberately, Serena crossed her arms as a wicked glint filled her eyes. In a deceptively sweet tone, she uttered the unthinkable, "Are you _jealous_ that Carter wants to _marry me_, while…just what is it exactly that's going on between you and Chuck?"

"Serena," Blair hissed, ignoring the way that her heart clenched in pain. And just as quickly, she felt like she was in high school again, aiming a barb at the girl who was supposed to be her best friend and sister. "Just because you have a ring on your finger doesn't mean that you'll actually get married or that he'll show up."

"Right and your vast experience of one engagement proves that, how? You ran away from an engagement with a prince to be in a trial relationship with Chuck. I can see how well that's worked out for you," Serena said bitterly. "You'll have to excuse me that I'm going to have to pass on your sterling advice."

"Well, unlike some people, I haven't been on a merry-go-round of relationships," Blair said nastily. "Or can you even call fucking random men a relationship, nowadays?"

"Blair," Serena said warningly.

"Is that what this is about? Are you trying to lock Carter down, before he runs away from you? The way all men run from you?" Blair spewed out in vitriol. "Poor little Serena, so lovely and full of life, yet no one can stand to actually stay to deal with you."

"Maybe!" Serena yelled back. "But at least I'm not the one who's trying to convince someone that they want to be with me. I'm not the one whose _one and only_, tried to hide from her, begged her to walk away from him. And I'm certainly not the one who had to steal a copy of the key to Chuck's house, just so he couldn't shut you out! Perfect Blair Waldorf always chasing after someone who doesn't want her back!"

The blonde and the brunette stared at each other hotly—both had tears in their eyes.

"I think," Blair said hoarsely, as she looked away first. "It would be best if you left, Serena."

"Fine," she croaked back.

Serena leaned over to grab her purse off the table and stifled back a sob. The sound had Blair turning around, and she caught a glimpse of her sister in pure agony as the tears streaked her face. Suddenly all the anger that had been building up inside of Blair dissolved.

"S?" Blair whispered.

A moment later, Serena was hugging her so tightly she could barely breathe. As Blair stroked her hair soothingly, she asked, "Tell me what's wrong?"

Sniffling loudly, Serena admitted, "I'm scared, B. I'm so happy right now, I can't stand it. What if Carter decides that he's changed his mind? That I'm not enough for him? While we're only dating, engaged even, he can still walk away. That's what you did with Louis, isn't it? Walked away before you got married? Because once you're married, it makes it that much harder to leave, doesn't it?"

"Oh, Serena," Blair consoled her. "A ring on your finger won't make anyone who doesn't want to stay, stay. Nor does the absence of one mean that he's not in it for the long haul. Carter is crazy in love with you. He's being _nice_ to Chuck, because he knows he's your brother. He begged _me_ to put in a good word with you, knowing that I could destroy your impression of him. Honey, Carter isn't going anywhere—not unless you're going with him."

"How can you be so sure?" Serena asked her, needing to be consoled.

"I can't be," Blair admitted honestly. "But all you can do is trust him and trust yourself. You know how _you_ are, and what does it say that for a change you're rushing _into_ commitment, instead of running _away_ from it? Do you love him? Do you trust him?"

Serena wiped the tears away from her face as she nodded wildly. "B, I love him so much, I don't think I have ever loved someone the way I love him. He feels like home—the perfect mix of a new pair of Manolos and my teddy bear I slept with every night until I turned fourteen. And when I'm with him, he makes me feel like I can be or do anything, and yet he just wants _me_. He doesn't care who I am or what I've done, he just _gets_ me."

"So what are you worried about?"

"That I'm going to do something that's going to make this all go away," she confessed.

"Have you talked to him about this?"

"Why would I? It'll only do one of two things—either he'll tell me I'm being silly, but the ideas will now be planted in his head, or he'll tell me that I'm right, that's exactly how he feels," she answered stubbornly.

"You're forgetting answer 'c'," Blair gently chided.

Serena pulled away to look her in the eye, confusion written all over her face. "Answer 'c'?"

"It's my favorite answer, actually," she said wryly. Blair reached out and took Serena's hands in hers. "It's the one where he wraps his arms around you and tells you that he loves you in spite of your fears and that he'll do whatever it takes until he makes you see that there is nothing you can do that will make him love you any less."

"That's what I'm afraid of, too. That he'll grow tired of me needing to be reassured that this will work out between us. B, I can't lose Carter, _ever_. I find myself wondering how I ever let him go to begin with. I ran away from him that summer I searched for my dad—and he kept following me, wanting to be with me. But how could he love me when my own father didn't want me?"

The fear that was written all over Serena's face was reminiscent of the fears that Chuck had, _has_, she corrected herself. Blair rushed to abate her distress. "Carter loves you, S. Anyone who sees the way he looks at you knows it. He's been chasing you for a long time, and he's never stopped. He doesn't even want to catch you, he just wants to be with you. So stop overthinking this and let yourself be happy."

Serena stared at her for a full minute, before finally nodding her head. Blair smiled back at her.

"B, about earlier…" she started to say, shame-faced.

"It's ok. I think we've been best friends long enough to know the drill," she offered.

"I'm sorry," Serena whispered. "What I said about Chuck, I should never have said that. You know he—"

"I do. And nothing you could say would make me think otherwise," she interrupted. Blair forced a smile on her face, and with renewed determination she asked, "Now, what were you saying about the wedding? If we're going to make you a July bride, we have no time to waste…"

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Blair placed her hand on Chuck's chest, as she smoothed out a non-existent wrinkle on his suit jacket. He looked so _fuckable_ at that moment, that she actually took a quick glance at the clock and wondered if Serena would be upset if they weren't as early to the rehearsal dinner as promised.

Chuck had been so tense over the past couple of days in preparation for having to sit at the same table with Lily—and while it saddened her that he referred to her as _Mrs. Humphrey_, Blair sure as hell couldn't blame him. She wished he would let go of the hurt for his own sake, but she knew that the betrayal ran deep—it had been akin to the loss of Bart but in an entirely different way. She wondered if she should have pressed harder for Hen to fly out for the wedding festivities—Serena had offered to invite her if it would make Chuck feel more comfortable about being in far too close quarters with her mother. But Chuck had insisted that everything was fine, that Hen was just settling in San Francisco, and he did not need an entourage to deal with the likes of _Mrs. Humphrey_.

The last time Chuck had withdrawn from her sexually had been during the Elizabeth Fisher debacle. At least this time, he had kept her physically close to him—almost _too close_, and yet they hadn't had sex in over three days and Blair thought she was going to climb up the walls. She was relieved that Chuck wasn't shutting her out. He wasn't talking about his feelings either, but Blair knew that he found solace in her proximity, especially how he needed the constant physical, yet non-sexual contact.

During the day, he had all but begged her to keep her company at his office, opting to work from the couch so he could keep an arm draped over her. At night, in their bed, he had practically become a second layer of skin to her, cradling her so close to him, she could barely breathe. She loved how much he needed her, but he hadn't so much as kissed her properly, _once_. Chuck had unintentionally kept her in a suspended state of intense arousal.

Chuck startled her when he stilled her roving hands and then looked down at her. He gave her a sheepish look as he lightly caressed her cheek. "I've been miserable for the past few days, haven't I?"

Blair shook her head softly as she bit her lip. She didn't want him to feel guilty for being upset—especially not about this. But she couldn't stifle the moan that escaped when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her body to his. He gently nibbled on her ear as he ran his hands slowly up and down her back. She whimpered softly as she clutched his shoulders, reveling in his sensual touch that she had missed desperately.

"_Please, Chuck_," she begged.

He leaned over and kissed her slowly, tenderly and softly—it was not nearly enough of what she was craving. Using his tie as leverage, she pulled him closer and attacked him with her mouth. Her tongue darted into his mouth as she ran her fingers through his hair, tugging on it with a ferocity she didn't even recognize. Chuck growled with approval as he lifted her up and carried her to their bed. Pinning her down and hovering above her, he looked at her so intensely that her heart caught in her throat.

"I love you," she said.

It was the only invitation he needed as he proceeded to devour her with his mouth, making her want to cry out in pleasure. Blair wished for nothing more than to be the balm to every wound that existed inside of him. If the only comfort she could offer him in the moment was her body—then she would gladly soothe him. When she felt him slide into her, she felt complete and lost herself in him, _in them_—that she almost didn't hear him whisper in her ear.

"I love you _more_."

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.

.

"I think you have a spot there," Blair said apologetically as she reached over and pointed out the lipstick stain that now sat on his previously pristine white shirt.

He sighed exaggeratedly, before he shot her a sly wink, looking entirely too satisfied in all his Chuckian glory. He leaned over and brushed his lips lightly against hers. She smiled, enjoying the frisson of excitement that shot through her body at the simple gesture.

"I'll go change," he said agreeably. "But I'd suggest you do so, too."

She furrowed her brow.

Chuck laughed. "You look thoroughly ravished, Waldorf. I somehow imagine you don't want Serena to know the true reason why we're late?"

Blair pushed him off of her and sat up. She turned to look at her reflection in the mirror and made a face. Her hair was not salvageable, her make-up in need of dire repair and she was not going to have time to have her dress re-pressed. She shot Chuck her most stern glare and snottily said, "Well, it most certainly wasn't _my_ fault."

He snorted as he pulled her atop of him. She sighed happily and rubbed her face against his chest, as she felt the vibrations of his voice. "Right, somehow you looking absolutely delectable is _my_ fault?"

"I can't help it that you have no self-control, Bass," she said teasingly.

"When have I ever had self-control around you?" He asked in wonder. Chuck stroked her hair before tenderly pressing a kiss on her forehead. "I want nothing more than to stay with you like this, all night, but if we don't get dressed now, I believe Serena will be screaming bloody murder."

As if on cue, Blair's cell phone rang. She ignored it for one moment, just so she could kiss him, again. He needed to know that he was the most important thing to her, now and always. Sighing in irritation, as her message indicator beep sounded and her phone started to ring again, Blair picked up her phone as Chuck got out of bed.

"Serena? Sorry, there was a wardrobe catastrophe—the cleaners ruined my dress and I'm scrambling to find something remotely suitable to wear..."

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Blair yawned sleepily, stretching her arms over her head—the past three days had been utterly draining. She couldn't wait to crawl into bed and cuddle with Chuck. After showing up just on time to the rehearsal dinner, Serena had given her a knowing look before informing her that even though she and Carter had insisted on _not_ having bachelor/bachelorette parties, they had changed their minds. The two had impulsively agreed—as they were apt to do with _everything_, that they should have separate ones—_that very night_. While Carter had the tandem duo of Nate and Chuck, Blair had had to fend for herself. Rather, Dorota had been called in as reinforcements, and her trusty maid had spent the next two hours rounding up their girlfriends, hiring last minute strippers and reserving tables at three different nightclubs.

The planning had ended up becoming a welcome distraction, Chuck had taken great pride in seeing just how well he could scrounge up a final _Lost Weekend_, more like a final _Lost Evening_, for the originator of the event. The challenge of the task at hand had actually made it so that Chuck had barely even acknowledged or was made upset by Lily's presence—as Serena had strategically sat them at opposite ends of the room. Except for a stilted hello, the two had not spoken nor made eye contact all evening.

And the minute all formalities had ended, Chuck, Nate and Eric had dragged Carter off before the girls could blink. Blair had commandeered the limo and Serena, Kati, Is, Penelope and Hazel had piled in to meet a dozen or so other friends at the first stop. Dorota had worked her magic—there was a gorgeous tiara, a ridiculous 'bride-to-be' sash and an assortment of party favors. Serena had squealed with excitement when the strippers showed up and she had strutted around in all her bridal glory. All in all, it had been a successful evening, landing all the women at the presidential suite of the Palace for an impromptu slumber party. She had snuck into the bathroom to call Chuck, as they had traded success stories—but she had detected the mutual note of disappointment in his voice that their evening would not end together.

The morning that followed had been a bit painful, as Serena had the remaining dozen or so women partake in shots until nearly six a.m. They had all crawled to the catered breakfast that room service delivered—and finally ended up having Prada courier over an array of sunglasses so they could drink coffee and eat without cringing from the light. One by one their friends had left, until it was just Blair and Serena that remained. Even while S had continued to moan and groan, the hint of a smile played on her lips and Blair could feel the excitement exuding from her. Before she had left, Serena had made her promise to spend the night with her—just the two of them with croissants and _Breakfast at Tiffany's._

Blair had managed to make it home just long enough to join Chuck for a way too quick shower, before she had to turn right back around and meet Serena for the pre-wedding pampering—mani-pedis, facials and massages. Still a bit hung-over from the previous night of debauchery, the girls had made it an early night. But just before seven a.m., the bride-to-be had woken her up in pure jittery excitement. And the wedding day had begun.

The festivities somehow had managed to straddle the fine lines of unconventional while maintaining some elements of the traditional. Serena had been fixated on getting married on a boat—in honor of the first indicator of Carter's love for her. Chuck had very generously purchased the yacht they got married on as a wedding gift. There had only been a dozen people invited to the actual ten minute ceremony itself. Shortly after, they had retired to the formal three-hour luncheon reception at the Palace where Lily and the Baizens proudly introduced the newlyweds to nearly three hundred guests. But in classic Serena and Carter fashion they had followed that up by throwing a dance-until-dawn party at Gimlet.

Chuck and Blair had managed to escape sometime after midnight, while the newlyweds were still on the dance floor, gyrating indecently against one another. The Baizens were still going strong and had showed no signs of flagging anytime soon. She had snuggled against Chuck on the limo ride home, excited to finally have more than a stolen moment with him. He had seemed to be equally relieved at finally having her in his arms, as he had spent the entire ride home showering her with soft kisses.

Blair walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom to find Chuck sprawled out on the bed, his hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. She crawled onto the bed and fitted her body against his so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. He groaned appreciatively, as he moved so he could hold her even closer. Blair trailed her fingers absently across his chest as a quiet voice in her head kept urging her on to ask him the question that had been festering since the late morning ceremony.

"What is it?" Chuck asked in his gravelly voice. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

Instead of answering, she simply shook her head, and buried her face into his neck.

"Waldorf, I _know_ you—just ask me whatever it is that's plaguing you," Chuck teased. "You know how persistent I can be when I become fixated on you."

She hesitated for a moment as she thought back to the moment the Serena and Carter had exchanged _I do's_. She hadn't done it intentionally, but she had turned slightly to look at Chuck—only to find him staring at her possessively. The look on his face had thrilled her and later when she had caught Serena's bouquet, he had simply smirked at her. He had been more than the doting boyfriend all day—and it made her want to ask him if they could stop this charade, and if need be, she would ask _him_ to marry _her_.

"Blair? You know you won't get to sleep until you ask me that question of yours," Chuck tugged lightly on her hair before he suggestively hinted, "And I, for one, am more than anxious to go to bed."

"Calloffthetrialperiod ," she mumbled into his shoulder.

He shifted his body so he was facing her. Tipping her chin so her eyes met his, he asked with a smile, "Want to try that again? So I can _hear_ you this time?"

She bit her lip nervously, before she admitted, "I want you to call of the trial period."

The playfulness faded from his eyes and she could feel the tension slowly start to build. Very carefully, he asked, "Is there any particular reason why we need to address this right now?"

"Has anything in my behavior suggested that I'm planning on changing my mind?" Blair countered, with an equal amount of care not to let any hint of emotion creep into her voice.

"_Blair,_" Chuck said with a trace of warning.

"You love me right?" She interrupted.

"Of course," he hissed in exasperation. "You _know_ I love you, more than anything."

She nodded in agreement. "I guess what I'm having trouble understanding is how I can watch _your_ two sisters forgive the men who love them, but you won't forgive yourself."

"It's not that simple."

"Not simple? That's your answer to _everything_! Let's make it simple. Serena forgave Carter for manipulating her with her daddy issues, just to break her up with Nate—and she got married this morning. Henry forgave Hugh for accusing her of murdering their child, and they're engaged. But you—you won't let _me_ forgive _you_?"

Chuck looked at her intently before removing himself from her embrace. He stood up and started pacing back and forth across the room. There was silence for several minutes before he stopped and very quietly said, "What Carter and Hugh did to them, doesn't compare to what I've done to you. And they couldn't possibly love Serena and Henry as much as I love you. It's not possible for anyone to love someone the way I love you."

"It _is_ possible, because I'm sure _I_ love _you_ as much, if not more than _you_ love _me_," she whispered back.

"Blair, please, let's not argue about this. We're together—isn't that enough?" He pled as he knelt next to the bed and reached for her hand.

"But we aren't _really_ together—I don't have all of you! I want every last bit! What are you so afraid of? What happened to the Chuck Bass who would pursue me at the cost of _everything_?" She asked defiantly.

"Not at the cost of _you_," he admitted.

"I see," she said softly.

"Blair, I am trying, so hard," he begged her. "Don't you see? This is why I asked for time. I can't just make it all disappear into thin air—"

She placed a finger over his lips to silence him.

"I get it, Chuck," Blair murmured. She slipped her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder. She repeated the words again for his benefit, "I get it."

It really was almost an act of cruelty to subject Chuck to the success of his sisters and their relationships. Watching the men in Henry and Serena's lives seamlessly fit themselves into their worlds, as though they belonged—no, were _entitled_ to be there, had proved to be both a blessing and a curse. She _knew_ Chuck wanted to be that way with her, _knew_ without a doubt that he wanted to allow himself to let them become that _inevitable_ couple he had always claimed they were. But he was still buried so deep into questioning his own self-worth and trying to let go of his guilt, Blair could only wonder if she would be enough of a light at the end of the tunnel for him. Chuck was the only one who could forgive himself.

As he got up from the floor and rejoined her back on the bed, she reminded herself that they were already halfway through this 'trial period' of his. She was just going to have to weather the storm. Chuck pulled the comforter over them before wrapping his arms around her and pressing his cheek against hers. Blair couldn't stop the involuntary sigh of contentment that escaped her—she had missed this for the past two nights. As she allowed herself to nod off to sleep, she hoped when it was all said and done, he would see that she had been there all along, and that nothing was going to change that.

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_tbc_

* * *

A/N: I'm not going to lie or deny it—I am both _super_ lame, as well as having a totally legitimate excuse for the delay in posting. I was in the process of penning a gargantuan birthday fic for my lovely beta, Noirreigne, for the past couple of weeks, it's a historical oneshot, You Amaze Me. I'm genuinely sorry that it took so long to get this chapter out, although, in my defense, this chapter _is_ rather long, the longest chapter of my story, actually. Only two more to go before the epilogue!

For a change, this is _not_ for my beta, Noirreigne, who is still amazing, in her own right, so thank you for your beta work.

For my sigma, Ilu, right now, I have no words, because I'm tired of them, but if I could, I would send you a Heath bar and some Peanut Butter M&Ms, and maybe a KitKat or two.

For my OCC, thank you for dealing with my super whininess in the late hours about every little phrase I obsessed over.

For the readers and reviewers, thank you so much for taking the time to still read my story, I am, as always, eternally grateful.

As always, I am oscillating between watching and not watching, and am now considering not watching until S5 starts or possibly waiting until the show ends, despite the fact that I am planning on posting a finale oneshot sometime next week based on the small details and potential spoilers I had been unable to avoid since December. However, I technically still _know nothing_, so the absence of references to the show, especially events post 4x11, are thoroughly preferred!


	23. the bribe that wasn't enough

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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July melded into August almost as if it were a surreal dream, a cocoon of whimsy with an undercurrent of change just beneath the surface. Not that Chuck would admit it out loud, but the conversation after Serena's wedding had his antennae up, and his level of paranoia had risen to an even higher level than he had thought possible. The couple of weeks following had passed almost as if he was embarking on a full-scale courtship and somehow it was eerily similar to a few short months ago. Although Blair had been unwavering in her position regarding her feelings towards him, Chuck couldn't help but feel the need to shower her with even more gestures of his love for her. He knew deep down how irrational this was, that all he really needed to do to show Blair his feelings was to let his guard down and accept the fact that they were going to make it. However, this was himself Chuck was dealing with, and leave it to him to throw common sense out the window.

And one by one the grand and not-so-grand gestures started to appear. One morning, he reserved the Top of the Rock in its entirety, just so he could he share the view of the sunrise alone with Blair, cuddled in a blanket with a carafe of hot chocolate. It had been difficult to rouse her from sleep, and he had ended up carrying her out of their bed, into the limo and onto the elevator at 30 Rockefeller Plaza as it climbed up the 70 flights. Despite her protests, he knew that she loved the gesture, especially from the way she held his hand and curled up against him the entire ride home, even though she hadn't said a word. Later that week, he took an afternoon off just so he could go feed the ducks with her in Central Park. When he spied the Carousel, he insisted that they ride it together. Blair had faux grumbled the entire time, but when she allowed him to buy her cotton candy afterwards, even letting him lick the remnants of the spun sugar from her fingers, he knew all was well. There had been a late night carriage ride another evening, followed by a midnight picnic on the roof of his building. All this was in addition to the daily gifts he had delivered to the penthouse and the extravagant meals he had planned, not to mention the jaunts to various fashion houses so that Blair could be measured for custom garments.

There was nothing Chuck enjoyed more than watching the delight that crossed Blair's face at her pleasure of his various gifts. Being spoiled by him was something that came naturally to her—however, it hadn't been completely smooth sailing. At first Chuck had thought he was imagining things when Blair had become extremely prickly on more than one occasion, for no discernible reason. It wasn't until she fixated on a puce-colored lamp that she insisted was _perfect_ for his office that he realized what she was doing. She was going out of her way to pick a fight with him—just to see how far she could go. He wondered if she knew that he knew that she was trying to get under his skin. Despite his mild irritation, he had been unable to stop himself from caving, riddled with the guilt that she deserved everything, even something as nonsensical as furnishing his home office with that absurd lamp. Although he was capitulating to her every whim, he could almost sense her growing dissatisfaction with him.

So when Blair had started projecting her holiday schedule—bemoaning the fact that all four of her parents were opting to stay in Paris for Thanksgiving, the cogs in his head started turning. She had already informed him that this year it would be Christmas in Paris with her family. Not only were Dorota, Anastasia and Vanya going to be there, with Blair's first day of class at NYU starting the second week of January, she wanted to make sure to see her family before her academic calendar started. A surprise week-long getaway might be just the trick to appease her, although he would have to check his schedule before committing to the exact dates.

Chuck was more than a little nervous about looking at his calendar. In his efforts to make Blair his number one priority, he had whittled down the number of business trips he had taken over the past few months to zero. He had gone so far as to delegate projects he would normally oversee in order to be completely available to her. Time had become an important bartering chip, and he wanted to insure that he had as much of it with Blair as possible. He felt a pang in his heart at the memory of his father who wouldn't even make time to go to a Rangers game with him, let alone spend any quality time. Chuck had been relieved that he more than held his own in racquetball, otherwise he wondered if he would have ever spent any time with Bart at all.

Entering the reception area of his office, Chuck looked at Sam strangely, who seemed to be bubbling with excitement. He paused for a moment to allow the opportunity for his personal assistant to speak.

Sam smiled before greeting him, "Good morning, Mr. Bass. Your video conference is set for five minutes."

"Since when? With who?" Chuck asked suspiciously.

"With Henry, remember?" Sam answered cheerfully. "You two are finalizing the numbers for the quarterly reports, before deciding on who's getting the promotion."

He frowned, if he recalled correctly, that wasn't scheduled until next week. Instead of arguing, Chuck simply nodded his head. "I'll need you to pull up my calendar for the next two months accompanied with a list of all of the overseas trips I've put off since May. I'm surprising Blair with a vacation, and I want to make sure nothing is looming."

"Right away, sir." Sam said happily.

Chuck seriously wondered if Sam was overpaid, he was _always_ in way too good of a mood, _all the time_. As he stepped into his office and shut the door, he slipped off his jacket and sat at his desk. He was not going to be happy when Sam was done organizing the to-do list of his calendar, he knew that there were at least four business trips he had stalled on—London, Shanghai, Hong Kong and Singapore, and that was just at the top of his head. Even thinking about it gave him a headache, and he really didn't know how much longer he could hold off on traveling.

He had honestly thought that staying in New York with Blair would have vanquished his internal demons by now. But truthfully, Chuck was nowhere closer and had begun questioning what would happen once this last one month stretch of their trial period ended. All he knew was that falling more and more in love with Blair every day, just as he knew he was becoming more and more attached to their domestic life.

Just as he was situating himself, Sam buzzed him through the intercom.

"Henry's ready for you."

"Patch her through."

"Chuck!" Henry squealed, as she appeared on his computer screen.

"Hey, Hen," he returned with a grin. "Not that I'm not happy to see you or anything, but isn't it almost six a.m. where you are? And I didn't say anything to Sam, but I thought we were discussing the quarterlies next week?"

"You're right, can't let anything slip past you, can I?" She chirped. "Sam was just being _my_ little helper, and arranged this as a surprise. There's something I wanted to talk to you about, and since I couldn't do it in person, I thought I'd do it via video conferencing."

"You're not _pregnant_, are you?" He blurted out before he could stop himself.

"_Chuck_!" Hen scolded.

"Well, _are you_?" He wondered.

"NO!" She screeched. Hen took a deep breath to calm herself as Chuck observed her carefully.

"Then what else could be so important that you need to do this 'in person'?" He asked, using her trademark air quotes.

Very shyly she said, "Hugh and I finally set a date. I wanted to ask if you would be so kind as to give me away?"

He swallowed the large lump in his throat as he beamed back at her. In a hoarse voice, that betrayed the swarm of emotions flooding through him, "I'd be honored to."

Hen smiled widely at him as her eyes teared up. "Good! Because I couldn't think of anyone else I would rather have do it—you're the closest thing to family I have."

Chuck cleared his throat before he answered. "Same. But you'll have to let me pick up the tab for the wedding, every last bill."

She snorted while she shook her head. "No way! I don't want you doing that, it's completely unnecessary. It's not even going to be that big—actually you and Blair are the only people I'm inviting from New York. Just pick something off the registry—even the entire registry if you feel so inclined."

"It's a gift, for my big sister. We're family, that's what families do, pick up the tab for weddings. Besides, it's not like I can't afford it," he said as he rolled his eyes.

"Oh, does that mean I have to pay for _your_ wedding to Blair?" She retorted. "Somehow, I don't think I could afford it, even if I _wanted_ to. I imagine her dress alone would cost more than the sum total of what I have planned."

His expression froze—he honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. Well, that wasn't necessarily true, he had _dreamed_ of the moment when he could finally slip that wedding band on her finger, and when she slid the band on his, when it would finally be _them_ instead of _you_ and _me_.

"Chuck?" Hen said slowly.

He could feel her eyes boring through the webcam, yet he couldn't wipe the dejection off of his face. He didn't deserve Blair.

"You have to stop doing this, to _her_, to _yourself_," she whispered. "Aren't you happy?"

"More than I ever thought was possible," he admitted.

"I've been trying not to pry—this is between you and Blair, but why the hell are you still on a trial period? You have been waiting and planning for this moment since the day I met you—what's stopping you?"

Chuck remained silent, letting the sound of nothingness reverberate loudly. He didn't want to have to articulate his thoughts on this matter—how does one explain that they're simply not good enough? But maybe if he spoke the words aloud,_ he_ could make sense of it this.

"Do you know what it's like to hear yourself apologize for every wrong you've committed against the person you love more than anything?" He asked finally. "This whole time, I viewed each incident as isolated—separate. Even the way you found out about the Empire and Jack, I waited three years before I told you what happened in its entirety. But when Blair and I finally talked, and we discussed _everything_—it was all too much. We spent _hours_ detailing my crimes against her—and that was only what I had done to her over a four to five month period. And there she was, my salvation, just willing to let things go and be with me—but I can't ask her to do that. I will _always_ be me, and I'm too afraid that I'll hurt her again."

"She loves you, Chuck, and yet you seem hellbent on punishing her for that fact," Henry said tartly.

"But that's what it is, Hen, isn't it?" he questioned sadly. "She's been cursed—what other explanation is there? And I just want to make sure that I give her every opportunity to step away. Because if she doesn't, even if I hurt her again—I will never be able to let her go."

"I see," she said quietly in a tone that reflected the exact opposite meaning of her words. They stared at each other for a moment, before they both looked away, uncomfortable by the pain reflected in Chuck's eyes.

After a long and awkward stretch of silence, Henry asked, "So, _if_ Hugh and I agree to accept your generous offer to foot the bill for the wedding, should I send them attention to Sam or to the penthouse?"

"To Sam," Chuck confirmed in relief. He knew she was just trying to appease him and change the topic, and it was more appreciated that she could ever know. "When's the date?"

"September 27th, it's a Sunday."

"What the hell is wrong with you and Serena? Shot-gun wedding, much? Heaven forbid, that either of my sisters actually plan a wedding under normal time constraints. That's in six weeks, Hen," he said in exasperation.

"I'm well aware of when my wedding is," Hen snipped. "I guess we'll just have to wait until you and Blair get married, so you can show us how it's done right."

She cringed when she realized which words had been spoken and shot him an apologetic look. Without skipping a beat, she continued on, "But in all honesty, the wedding is going to be small, tiny really—no more than 75 guests, tops. And almost everything has been decided on, already. So, except for showing up with Blair, there is _nothing_ that is required of you, I promise. You can even wear whatever you like when you walk me down the aisle."

"I can wear a salmon-colored suit?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood before it delved back in to darker, less desirable territory. "A full-on morning coat? Tails, perhaps? A chartreuse cravat?

Hen stuck her tongue out at him, before nodding in agreement.

"Well, then I guess I can offer no further complaints…"

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Blair had been absolutely ecstatic when she heard about Henry and Hugh's wedding plans, once she got over the fact that they were getting married in six weeks. Her initial response had been exactly like his—_can you find a sibling who _won't_ go for a shotgun wedding?_ Chuck had agreed wholeheartedly, until her next words. _Don't think for one second we'll have anything remotely similar to that. I want it all—a full one-year engagement, followed by the wedding of the decade. _He had frozen completely, unable to speak. She had stared at him, waiting for him to contradict her. When he said nothing, she merely arched a brow before continuing to rail about the utter lack of consideration both Serena and Henry had managed to exude. Chuck had still been reeling from her words—partially in indignation at her audacity to assume that he didn't know _exactly_ what was required of an engagement to her, and partially because she had been absolutely steadfast in her confidence that it would work out.

He didn't know what came over him at that moment, but he had walked over and kissed her. _Repeatedly._ Again and again, until they were tearing off each other's clothes as he pinned her against the living room wall. The only sounds heard for next half hour was the slapping of skin, breathy moans, grunts of satisfaction and unintelligible words. They were still sprawled out on the floor in a state of undress an hour later. While neither had spoken, they had been unable to stop touching or stroking each other's skin lightly, continuously pressing gentle kisses onto the other. Chuck knew instinctively, as he reached over to pull a throw blanket over them that they wouldn't be getting up anytime soon. It was too perfect, it was _them_.

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It wasn't until almost a week later Chuck finally worked up the nerve to bring up the subject of his imminent business trip. They were lying in bed, as he mindlessly traced patterns on Blair's naked back, while she murmured little sighs of pleasure as she buried her face deeper into the pillow. He leaned down to press a kiss to her shoulder, before uttering the words, "Blair, we need to talk."

"Hmmm?" She mumbled incoherently, as she propped herself up on her elbows and turned to stare at him. With a slow smile she teased, "That sounds ominous."

Chuck forced a laugh. Blair shot him a questioning look as she met his eyes. "What is it?"

"I was going over my calendar with Sam today, and it looks like there is a rather lengthy business trip looming."

"Really?" She sat up, not even bothering to cover herself with the sheet and seemed abuzz with excitement. "Where are we going?"

He cringed. "That's the thing, _we_ aren't going anywhere—_**I**_ am."

Blair crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes.

He threw up his hands in mock surrender to stop her from speaking. "I'm not sure when I'm leaving or for how long, Sam is in the midst of coordinating the details. But whatever it's going to be, it's not even remotely close to a vacation—it'll be nonstop meetings, in order to make up for my refusal to travel for the past few months."

"Why would you refuse to travel?" As Blair asked her question, her mind seemingly answered her own query, and understanding dawned on her face.

"I was hoping that I hadn't been so neglectful," Chuck continued. "Because I wanted to whisk you away for a few days. However, it seems that just the opposite has been the case. The rough estimates put the trip at close to two weeks."

Blair let out a low whistle. "That's entirely too long for us to be apart, Chuck. It's not the most optimal situation, but so long as we get to share a bed at night, I promise I will keep myself out of your hair."

Her words warmed his heart, but Chuck knew he couldn't let her make the offer. It was one of his biggest fears for her to see him like that.

"Blair," he said warningly. "I would love nothing more than for you to come with me, but from the unofficial agenda I've seen, I'll be lucky to have a couple of hours a day to even communicate with the office here. When I say I'm booked, I mean I don't even know if we'll be able to share a meal or any time that doesn't require us flying to the next destination or asleep in bed. I can't ask you to do that."

"Who said you asked?" She questioned softly. "I'm offering."

"I don't want you to see me like that," he countered.

"See you like what?" Blair wondered aloud.

"Like my father," Chuck whispered. "I don't ever want you to think you're not the most important thing to me. And having you with me, but being unable to pay you any attention or relegating your needs to secondary, is something that doesn't sit well with me."

"You are nothing like Bart," she said quietly. "And I'm not a child."

"No, you're not. But I have found a way to make it up to you."

She sighed. "Who says I've agreed not to come with?"

"I've arranged it so I can take a week off following Hen's wedding. _Anywhere you want_. Just you and me, save for an hour each morning to speak to the office," he cajoled.

"An entire week?" Blair asked expectantly, the glimmer of excitement returning to her eyes. "Just me and you?"

He nodded.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Bass. But don't think I still won't try to convince you that taking me with you for your trip isn't necessary," she conceded with a smile.

Chuck leaned over to kiss her soundly on the mouth.

"Oh, I would expect nothing less, Miss Waldorf," he smarmed back.

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With fear and trepidation, Chuck let himself into the penthouse. He didn't know how well Blair would take this recent development. It had taken Sam almost ten day to compile the final itinerary for his trip, and Chuck found it mind-boggling. All of a sudden, every possible thing that could be fit into the agenda had been added. When he had been ready to explode in frustration, Sam reminded him that doing the trip this way would allow him time off for Hen's wedding, his one week vacation with Blair, an extended Thanksgiving weekend as well as two weeks off during Christmas and New Year's so he could accompany Blair to France. Chuck tamped down his irritation with his PA, who had very wittingly played the Blair card to get him to heel.

It was already bad enough that he had had to cancel dinner plans with Blair due to last minute chaotic scheduling. But now he had to tell her that instead of leaving sometime in the next couple of days, his business trip started in less than twelve hours, and he had to be at JFK by six a.m. Why Chuck hadn't told her when he called earlier was beyond him, but he knew what this was really about—delaying the inevitable end of the trial period talk.

As Chuck made his down the hall, he dropped his briefcase in his office. He was secretly relieved that he had packed earlier that week. Hopefully there would be minimal reaction from Blair, and he could spend their last night together for almost three weeks bathed in her warmth. When he finally found her, she was in the dining rooming with all her NYU catalogues and paperwork spread across the table, a look of deep concentration on her face. The past week or so, she had been fixated with mapping out her two year plan of attack in its entirety.

Silently creeping up behind her, he leaned over and kissed on the cheek.

"Chuck! You scared me!" Blair scolded, before reaching for his tie and tugging him down to kiss him properly. He smiled against her mouth, reveling in the fact that her greetings always made him feel like she was his home. When she released her grip and pulled away, she flashed him a smile before returning her focus to the sheet in front of her. "Just give me five minutes, and you can have my undivided attention."

She didn't even wait for his response as she was already reimmersed in her task. Not wanting to disturb her, he sat in the adjacent chair and patiently waited as Blair made her neat little notes, her lips pursing as if she were unhappy with the information presented to her. He absently noted that he could stare at her for hours.

A triumphant sound was made as she scribbled one last sentence with a flourish and looked over at him. "All done!"

"Good," Chuck said with a sigh. "Because I have something to tell you."

"Why are you using that voice I hate? The one where you're going to tell me something that I don't want to hear?" Blair teased as she rested her elbows onto the table.

"Because I just got the finalized itinerary from Sam—hence dinner cancellation. My flight leaves first thing tomorrow morning," he acknowledged. Chuck added the words, _and I'm scared you won't still be here when I get back_, in his head_. _"There are far more stops than I had anticipated, and it's now looking like I'll be gone even longer than planned. I'll be back the Monday before Hen's wedding."

"Chuck, you'll be gone for almost three weeks!" Blair said unhappily before she pressed, "And the trepidation in your voice?"

"Stop reading too much into things," he evaded.

Chuck watched as she crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. His heart was thumping, he wanted her to stay here, this was _their_ home—_her_ home, in more ways than she knew. Chuck knew that he had no right to hope for that, not when he was the one who was refusing to simply let them be.

"And?" Blair asked sharply. "Just say what it is you want to say."

"Say what?" Chuck asked confused.

"You're stalling. I saw the lump in your throat—the clear indicator that you're about to say something you know you shouldn't say," she clarified.

"It's just—, I mean, well, if you…" Chuck mumbled. "What I'm trying to say is, I would love it for you to still stay here while I'm gone, but please, don't feel as though you have to."

"Are you kidding me?" She scoffed.

"No," he answered uncomfortably. "The trial period ends next week and I'll be out town. And since we won't really have a chance to talk about it until I get back, I just wanted to make sure you knew I still wanted you here."

"What is there even to talk about? You said that if I felt the same, after three months, we would be fine. I haven't changed my mind," Blair seethed. "I can't believe this—we have a vacation planned that takes place _after_ the trial period ends. What is wrong with you?"

"Don't get upset! I'm just giving you an out!" Chuck implored. "I'm making it easy for you—I don't want you to feel obligated to be waiting for me when I get back."

"What part of _I love you_ do you not understand?" She asked. "Omigod, you actually don't trust me."

"Of course I trust you!"

"Yes, I can tell. It must have been the part where you said you don't expect me to be here when you get back, that spells out blind faith to me," she said sarcastically.

"Don't mock me," he snapped. "You _know _I trust you."

"You trust me so much that you want to pick a fight with me the night before you leave? Instead of trying to convince me that I should accompany you and we should be renewing our membership in the mile high club, you're subtly suggesting that I'm planning to have my personal items be removed?"

Chuck scowled at her. "You know very well, that's not what I'm saying. I _want_ you to be here when I get back, but only if _you_ want to be here."

"Am I missing something here? Why would you _hope _that I'd want to stay at the penthouse—that you already gave me the master key for—that I've already been living at for almost two months? I'm sorry, but what have I done to make you think I plan on moving out? Tell me, how is your questioning this, a sign of your trust?"

"It's not _you_ I don't trust, it's _me_," he pleaded. Suddenly the reasons that were the cause for this madness started to gush out. "You are the most amazing thing to ever happen to me and I don't deserve you. I keep waiting for the inevitable moment where I will fuck shit up and you'll realize that you deserve better than me."

Blair stared at him in disbelief.

"All I do is hurt you or make things up to you with gestures. My ability to lose you is unparalleled, winning you back—I'm more than adequate at. It's the keeping you, that I always fail so miserably at," he whispered brokenly. "I can say all the words you both want and don't want to hear …I just don't know how to handle the in-between. I'm not very good at just being there."

After what felt like hours, she finally stood up from the table and glared at him. In a tone that was filled with her frustration she said, "You handle the in-between by _trusting_ me, and trusting that when I tell you _I love you_, that I mean it."

Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed her arm. "Blair, please don't leave like this."

All the anger deflated from her as her eyes filled with sadness and tears, "Leave? I have no intention of leaving. I just don't want to talk to you right now. When you're ready to trust me, you can come to bed, but if not, stay out of _our_ room."

She tugged herself free of his grasp, forcing him to release his hold. Chuck flinched when he heard the bedroom door slam loudly. He shook his head as he walked to the bar to pour himself a glass of scotch. Even though he couldn't believe that he had made her cry, again, there was also a huge sense of relief—_she would still be there when he came back_. He carried the scotch with him into his office and sat behind his desk. Opening the desk drawer, he pulled out a rather ornate, old-fashioned key. With a sigh of resignation, he pulled out some stationary and began to compose a note. When he was finished, he signed his name, and folded the piece of paper and tucked in the letter with the key into an envelope.

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Blair woke up the next morning alone in their bed. She vaguely remembered Chuck crawling in and burrowing his head into her neck at some point during the night—but she had been emotionally drained, too tired to even acknowledge his presence. But now, there was an envelope with her name sitting on the pillow next to her. She glared at the stationary as though it were a poisonous snake, attempting to bite her. Blair really did _not_ appreciate notes from Chuck left on her pillow, especially knowing he was out of the country.

Last night she had felt in some way she was at the end of her rope. If she weren't absolutely certain that he was madly in love with her—she _would_ have left last night. In fact, she found herself wondering, if maybe it would be for the best for her to go to the Waldorf penthouse for a few days—maybe until Chuck got over himself. While Blair had found his inadequacy issues to be slightly endearing in the past—she was wearing down.

Refusing to feel threatened by Chuck's latest missive, she snatched the envelope and sat up in bed. A beautiful, old-fashioned ornate key fell out with the note. She picked up the key that had fallen into her lap, tracing the outline of the intricate design. Curious, she unfolded the letter.

_Blair—_

_I love you, more than words can express. _

_Please know that I absolutely trust you. _

_This key opens the locked door in our bathroom._

_I hope what you find inside, will be enough for you to believe me._

_I am already counting the hours to when I return, _

_you are my heart—and I will long for you, every moment we are apart._

_Yours,_

_Chuck_

A smile crossed her face. The mother Chucker _did_ have a way with words—she'd give him that. But now, there was a bit of nervousness that pulsed through her. What could possibly be behind that door? Her thumb rubbed over the words _our bathroom_ and her smile stretched. Blair loved it when he would refer to the penthouse as _theirs_—he rarely slipped up, while she went out of her way to dispense those types of remarks.

Blair pulled herself out of bed and with key in hand, stepped into the master bathroom. She walked to the door on the left—it was the only door that was locked. As she slipped the key into the fob and turned it, she heard the click. Her hand froze momentarily—floating slightly over the doorknob. With a deep breath, she placed her hand on the knob and turned it slowly, pushing the door open. The room must have been set to a motion sensor, as the light flooded the largest closet she had ever seen. And what she saw had her jaw drop and left her absolutely speechless.

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"Hello?" Henry mumbled sleepily.

"It's me," Blair said softly. She sat on the bench of the vanity of dressing table in the center of the sumptuous closet.

"I don't know if you know this, but I live on the West Coast now. Is there a reason why you're calling me at six a.m.?" Henry grumbled. "And for the record, I'm still mad at you and Chuck."

"What do you know about my closet?" She asked, ignoring the last statement.

"Closet?" Henry asked with a yawn.

"Yes, the enormous one in the master bedroom that Chuck had built for me?" Blair clarified deliberately.

"Oh, _your_ closet!" Suddenly, Henry sounded extremely alert. "Tell me! What does it look like? Is it glorious? Is it everything you ever imagined? Does this mean the trial period is over?"

"_No_. Wait…you haven't seen it?" Blair asked suspiciously.

"Why would I? It's _your_ closet." She emphasized. "I knew of its existence, but it isn't like Chuck ever showed it to me. I kinda always thought that it would be his engagement or wedding present to you."

"When did he do this? How long? Why?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny it, but I believe it started when Chuck bought you that ruby and diamond butterfly broach from Fred Leighton for your 21st birthday. It wasn't until your 22nd birthday and he was bouncing off the wall all day at the mere thought that you might call or text him to say you received your gift, that he even mentioned his tradition for your birthday," Henry explained. "But even though he hadn't heard from you either year, the rush of buying you something, how did he put it—_exquisitely crafted and worthy of the recipient_—somehow transformed into his fix. Whenever he was really stressed out or upset or wanted to celebrate, he went shopping—_for you_. Imagining your reaction was his form of detox, it was one of the few things that made him smile. He was generally very secretive about it, and honestly I don't even know where he stored everything until he moved into your penthouse."

Blair closed her eyes as Henry's words started to sink in. She wondered if it was similar to the excitement Chuck had when he had given her the Erikson Beamon necklace on her 17th birthday. The enormous room was more than half-filled and meticulously arranged. There was a U-shaped section of shelves that easily housed over a hundred pair of shoes, but still spared plenty of room to fit three times the amount more. Six full rows were filled with what she imagined were the custom Louboutins—there was an empty slot in one of the rows, assumedly for the pair he had brought to her a couple of months ago.

"As to the _why_, well I'm sure you must have figured it out by now," Henry continued. "It was done in hopes that when you found your way back to each other, you would understand how you were always with him—that it was only ever you. But if I'm not mistaken, there should be a very interesting piece of paper in there somewhere—I suggest you conduct a thorough search."

"Why? What does the piece of paper say?" Blair asked suspiciously, even though she had every intention of spending the entire day combing through the most extravagant gesture Chuck had made to date. She could feel his love pouring out from every corner of the room—but she could also feel the levels of his desperation.

"You can't miss it," Henry reassured her mysteriously. "Now, if you're done interrogating me, I'd like to return to being annoyed with you and go back to sleep."

The doorbell rang. _Serena_.

"As you were," Blair agreed easily. "But only because S just got here."

"Oh, but Blair?"

"Yes?"

"You never did say—what do you think of your closet?"

"I absolutely love it," Blair admitted.

"I want a tour when I'm in New York next," Henry demanded.

"Maybe," Blair teased. She bid Henry a goodbye, and hung up the phone as she walked to the front door. When she opened the door, she was greeted with an unenthusiastic Serena who had a tray of cappuccinos in hand as well as a bag of croissants.

"Well? What was the emergency that I had to rush over here?" Her friend asked with mild irritation.

"You are _not_ going to believe it when you see it," Blair said smugly. She took one of the coffee cups and took a sip as she sashayed down the hallway and led Serena into the master bedroom.

"Holy fucking shit!"

Blair leaned against the door as she watched a stupefied Serena slowly take in her dressing room. S walked around, fingering the numerous day dresses that hung along one wall. When Serena reached the wall that housed exquisite formal evening gowns, she squealed, "Is that the Marchesa dress from Paris fashion week? The one that got snatched before it could even be an Oscar gown?"

She nodded happily. When Blair and Serena had attended the fashion show together, they had both covetously stared at the lilac princess-style dress that had caused a collective hush from the audience. But by the time they had gotten backstage to take a closer look at the garment, the dress had been removed from the premises, with whispers that a private buyer had paid a small fortune for the gown.

"And that's the Oscar de la Renta dress from two seasons ago that you loved! Omigod! Is that from Sarah Burton's collection last fall?"

"Yes and yes."

Serena let out a low whistle and then gave yet another squeal as she made her way to the shoe section. "It's ungodly for you to have that many shoes! I think I might hate you. And right now, I'm thinking _why _I thought it was a bad idea to hook up with Chuck in high school, if I knew that _this_ would be the end result, maybe I would have let him fall in love with me, too."

Blair rolled her eyes, but she was glowing with pride at the physical evidence that Chuck Bass was not only _whipped_, but undeniably, very much in love with her.

"EW!" Serena screeched suddenly. "Tell me this is _not_ what I think it is?"

"You know, S, that section is curtained off for a reason," she scolded. There was no doubt that Serena was looking through the extensive costume section of her closet—the array of period pieces alone was stunning. But what had S shaking her head in shock, were the variety of black leather dominatrix outfits, she held in her hands. Taking the hangers from her friend, Blair neatly tucked them back where they belonged—next to the dozen different corsets from various eras in an array of fabrics.

"B, this room in unbelievable! There's not one single thing that doesn't scream _Blair Waldorf_. Chuck knows you to a tee," Serena remarked, as she continued to thumb through the costumes for their role playing games. "It's not enough that he's gotten you versions of the dresses from _Marie Antoinette_, a Cleopatra costume—complete with jewelry and accessories, he just _had_ to get you this, didn't he?"

In her hand was an exact replica of that iconic black gown Audrey had worn in the opening credits of _Breakfast At Tiffany's_. Blair batted her eyes innocently, as though she weren't itching to slip the dress on that very instant.

"I'm shocked you didn't greet me at the door wearing it. Try it on, now," Serena demanded as she thrust the dress at her.

"Well, if you _insist_," Blair said with a smirk as she shrugged out of her silken bathrobe. She reached out and took the hanger and hung it on the dressing hook. Just as she had removed her negligee, Serena let out a shriek.

"I can't fucking believe him!"

"What now?" She asked, turning to face her best friend.

"THIS!" Serena said as she held a familiar tiara, the pearl strands with a diamond brooch, and the signature cigarette holder. "And the jewels are all _real_! I _know _I hate you now."

Blair offered her back, as S walked over and zipped her up, before handing her a pair of elbow length black gloves and the cigarette holder. Serena expertly twisted Blair's hair into a coif and then carefully arranging the tiara on her head. She then clasped the necklace on, before proceeding to her shoe section to pull out a pair of black stilettos. Blair stood in front of the three-way mirror as she adjusted the Oliver Goldsmith sunglasses to finish off her look. She glanced over her shoulder and pouted at S, waving the cigarette holder around. "What do you think?"

"You look amazing! We have to take a picture of you in this and text it to Chuck! He'll probably leave the office the minute he sees this, and come over to have his way with you!" Serena giggled excitedly as she fished her phone out of her pocket, snapping pictures at random. "Or maybe you should be thanking him."

"He's taking the Bass jet to London, as we speak," Blair intoned a bit too casually.

"Why didn't you go with him?" Serena asked curiously, setting her phone down. "I'm surprised you two let each other out of sight. When does he get back? Tomorrow?"

Blair shook her head and quietly said, "He gets back the week of Henry's wedding."

"But that's almost three weeks!" Serena sputtered. "I can't believe you wanted to stay behind."

"That's not it exactly," she said carefully. Blair sat at the vanity, and started opening the drawers slowly to avoid making eye contact. A thick manila envelope sat inside the bottom of the top right hand drawer. She pulled it out and placed it in front of her, her heart skipping in nervous anticipation.

"Well, explain it then, B. Why is it suddenly a good idea for you two to spend time apart when the whole trial period is supposed to end—next week, isn't it?" Serena asked in confusion.

She barely heard S's inquiry as she slid out the documents from the envelope. When she realized what the grant deed was for, and whose name it was in, she ceased all movements as her heart was frozen in shock.

"Blair?"

Hastily, she shoved the papers back in the drawer, as a dazed smile appeared on her face. "I'm sorry, what did you say, S?"

Serena crossed her arms and sighed in exasperation. "Why would you think it's a good idea to be apart, when the end of the trial period is so close? If you didn't want to stay behind, then I'm assuming, he didn't invite you to go with him?"

"He's been pushing off all his overseas trips since I returned to New York, S. And it's not that I didn't want to go with him, but it's not going to be a vacation for us either," Blair parroted. "It's pretty much meeting after meeting for him, and he said he was planning to whisk me away for a private vacation after Henry's wedding, so it seemed silly to go with."

"And what, suddenly you can't fend for yourself overseas?" Serena snorted. "As if you haven't lived the past two years in Paris?"

"I don't want to talk about it, S," Blair said tightly. In a lighter tone she joked, "He _did_ leave me the key to this glorious closet to express his apologies."

"Well," Serena sighed in agreement. "I'll have to hand it to him—no one does bribes quite like Chuck Bass."

"No," she said quietly with a smile. "No one does."

"Let's continue the exploration of your department store sized closet, B! Wanna start with the jewelry?" Serena's eyes twinkled in amusement. "This is even better than when we played dress up as kids."

"I do like sparkly things…" Blair smirked as her voice trailed off.

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It was almost two hours later when Serena finally left. Blair glanced at the clock—it would be another hour or so until Chuck landed at Heathrow. She knew if she needed to, Sam would patch her through to the Bass jet, but Chuck couldn't have gotten much sleep before he left for the airport. No rest for the wicked, she thought wryly. Although it would probably suit her purposes better for him to be sleepy and disgruntled, so she could easily wheedle an invitation to join him abroad, Blair wanted him to hear every hitch of happiness in her voice at his thoughtful gesture.

She sat at the vanity again, and eagerly pulled out the deed she had been unable to study in earnest. Smiling widely, she spread the papers out and carefully read the documents. Her natural instincts had been correct, Chuck _had_ put the penthouse in her name. If this wasn't the biggest gesture of _we're going to be together forever_, she didn't know what was. Maybe she should have Sam email her Chuck's itinerary so she could surprise him in his hotel room later in the week. Even thinking about it had her giddy. As she ran her fingers down to the signature portion with a date—what she saw had the smile on her face freezing and ice running through her veins. Blair stared in disbelief at the signature date, but as she continued to look, it remained unchanged.

The rage that pulsed through her was enough to cause the tears to streak down her cheeks. This entire situation was ridiculous! Chuck had resided in the penthouse for bought for her, _last year_, and yet he couldn't commit to anything more than a three-month trial period? It was a moment of absolute clarity for Blair—he had saved this closet because he had _known_ he would fuck up again. All his ramblings and self-doubt issues were correct, he was going to hurt her again—he just had. While he had absolutely no trouble in demonstrating how much he loved her, he wouldn't give her the only thing she actually wanted—_himself._

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_Ring. Ring. Voicemail._

Chuck paced inside his jet, as he called Blair for the twelfth time. He had already waived off his flight staff, refusing to deplane until he was certain that he didn't need to turn around and return home to her. With each successive call she didn't pick up, the more nervous he grew. He pushed the END button on his phone and flung it against one of the seats. Chuck ran a hand through his hair as he massaged his temples. It was a _mistake_ for him to have left Blair—business be damned, he was going to cancel the trip, lock himself in a room with her until this was settled, once and for all.

_Ring. Ring._

He leapt and grabbed his phone off the seat when he heard it ring.

"Blair?" Chuck asked desperately.

"Mr. Bass?" Sam answered in confusion.

"Sam." Chuck cleared his throat and shut his eyes, as he hit the palm of his hand against his forehead repeatedly. "What can I do for you?"

"Your car has been waiting for over thirty minutes, is there something wrong?" His personal assistant asked uncertainly. "Your meeting is scheduled to begin in ninety minutes, and I thought you wanted to check into your suite, first."

Very tensely, Chuck ground out, "The meeting might be cancelled, as well as this entire trip. Tell the car to wait, I'll have an answer for you in the next half hour."

"But you're already in London! Are you feeling unwell?"

Chuck pinched the bridge of his nose as he exhaled a breath of frustration.

"Sir, I'm sure I don't have to remind you that if you cancel this trip, you're jeopardizing no fewer than three deals and it may cost you an additional four," his assistant continued.

"I'm aware, Sam. But there are some things that money can't buy." _Blair_.

"Yes, Mr. Bass. Please inform me when you have made your decision so I can start making arrangements."

_Click_.

He dropped the phone back onto the seat and walked into the bathroom and washed his face. He _needed_ to talk to Blair. He picked up his Blackberry one final time to call her, if she didn't answer the phone, he was going to have the jet refueled and head directly home. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his gut. Chuck had turned on his phone, hoping to have a message from Blair, but instead had a picture message from Serena with the subject line reading _Ooh la la_. It was an image of Blair dressed in all her Holly Golightly glory, smirking at him with her eyes peeking out of the sunglasses that had slid down her nose. She looked beautiful and ecstatic—yet she was _not_ answering her phone. Something had happened from the moment that Serena snapped that photo until right now.

_Ring. Ring._

"Hello?"

"Blair!" Chuck breathed in relief.

Silence.

"Blair? Are you still there?"

"Yes." The answer was clipped and short, betraying absolutely no emotion.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly. "Is everything ok?"

"You're the one who's calling me," she said coolly. "Is there something you needed?"

He bit the inside of his mouth as dread filled his body. In a quiet but shy voice he asked, "Did you get my letter?"

"Yes."

"And…" Chuck prodded.

"It was a lovely gift," she said emotionlessly. "Thank you. Now, is that all?"

"_Blair_."

"_What_?" She spat.

"Say something, anything," he pleaded.

"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to gush over your gesture?" She shot back. He heard the hitch in her voice as her voice cracked slightly. "Should I be reassuring you that you have in fact come up with the most perfect bribe ever?"

He was dumbfounded by her response. While he could not detect insincerity in her voice, he could feel her fury and her pain.

Blair laughed awkwardly, and it sent a chill up his spine. "Well it's not enough."

"I can have the Bass jet re-fueled and ready to head back towards New York within the hour," he said in a panic. "You're the most important thing in the world to me. You know this, don't you Blair?"

Silence.

"I know that that's what you think," she answered carefully. _Too carefully_.

"I'll head back to New York within the hour," he repeated firmly.

"You think coming back is going to fix things?" Blair sputtered. "Newsflash—_it won't_."

"Blair, please—"

"I _don't_ want to see you right now." She interrupted furiously.

It was as if a hand was squeezing his heart and draining the life out of him. She hadn't seen the deed, he convinced himself, perhaps if she knew. With newfound hope he asked, "Did you find the deed?"

"Of course, I found the deed," she hissed.

Confusion flooded him, this was so _not_ the reaction he had expected. He thought she would be thrilled. It was the follow up question she asked a beat later that made him realize his mistake.

"What would you have done if I had married Louis?"

He hesitated for a moment, uncertain how to answer. But there was no use in trying to hide any of his intentions now—he had to lay everything out on the table in hopes that she would understand where he was coming from. So he admitted the truth, "I would have moved out and couriered the deed to you as a wedding present. When I first saw the penthouse, all I could see was _you_. That's why I bought it in your name."

There was a long pause. Finally she asked, "Yale was all your doing, yes?"

His silence was admission enough.

"This is so fucking messed up, Chuck! It's not ok for you to hover around, making sure I'm taken care of, like you're my goddamn fairy godmother. You can't just wave a wand and make everything perfect for me on the outside and think that that's enough. I don't want a fairy tale—I want _you_. I can't take this anymore. Until you get over yourself, everything you're doing is meaningless. You can make every fucking grand gesture you want, but I want something real."

"It's all _real_, Blair," he insisted stubbornly.

"How is this real? You think I don't realize that you saved this gift in your back pocket, because you had to create your own self-fulfilling prophecy and fuck things up? You're going out of your way to insure I won't leave, but you won't _actually_ try to forgive yourself and work things out with me," she cried out hysterically. He could practically hear the tears trickle down her cheeks.

_I am trying!_ He wanted to scream back. But the words tripped over his tongue and when he opened his mouth, no sound came out.

Blair cleared her throat and he could sense her mask of indifference sliding into place. Tonelessly she said, "This is an important business trip for you, Chuck. You've been delaying it because of me, and I would hate to be the cause of any further interruptions in your work schedule."

He tried to object, but she was too quick with her words.

"Even if you decide not to heed my advice and come back early, it won't change anything, because I won't be at the penthouse when you get back."

"Blair," he whispered hoarsely as he gripped the phone tightly. His heart felt like it was shattering, as the beads of perspiration gathered over his brow. His throat was dry and he felt sick.

"I'll see you in San Francisco for Henry's wedding. You know she doesn't want to ask, but she'll need help running all her last minute errands. She'd be thrilled if I went out a week early and lent her a hand," she said casually.

Henry did not need nor want help—Blair was lying and they both knew it.

"I have to go. Have a good business trip, Chuck."

"Blair—" he tried one last time.

_Click_.

The sound of dead air was all he heard.

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_tbc_

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A/N: Sorry it took so long for this chapter, I do pinky swear that the last chapter and the epilogue will be posted in a timely manner.

Thanks as always to my beta Noirreigne.

For my kappa, Ilu, for being as obsessive as you are, I appreciate it, honestly.

For Ollie, sometimes I just want to hug you (a fake one), for no other reason than the fact that you are you.

To the readers and reviewers, in case you didn't know, I really do appreciate your continued interest in my story. Thank you for taking the time to read it.

I have opted to maintain my cone of silence, and I would be grateful if you could leave out any mentions of the show post 4x11 or any speculations/spoilers/S5 theories, etc.


	24. in pursuit of blairiness

**A/N: Slightly AU during the conversation between Chuck and Blair at the end of 4.09 – The Witches of Bushwick. What if that lovely C/B moment – ''if two people are meant to be together…" didn't quite turn out the way that it did? What if instead, Blair walked away? Set about five years into the future…give or take a couple of months. Also, the Juliet drugging Serena thing never happened. C/B.**

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He actually didn't know how he managed to survive for the past nineteen days, just that he had. The Bass jet was taxiing, and all he wanted to do was go to the penthouse and take a visual assessment of how royally he fucked things up. He didn't doubt for one moment that he read Blair's tone correctly when she advised him not to come back early on her account—it had been evident in the way she had refused to take a single one of his phone calls for the rest of his trip.

The only reassurance he had that she hadn't changed her phone number or disappeared, was that after the first five days, she had taken to texting him when she woke up, to prevent him from attempting to call her. Granted that had come _after_ he had badgered Dorota non-stop, asking about Blair's whereabouts and state of mind. Serena might be Blair's best friend, but Dorota was her confidant. Variations of _Dorota is off-limits; Please don't call me; I'm still alive; _ _Checking in so you will leave me alone today_ were the milder variations of her texts. Once he realized that she had her mask firmly in place, he knew that until they were in the same room, by her choosing, nothing he did would penetrate the wall she had erected.

And so Chuck did what he had done the last time she had shut him out, he ensconced himself so deeply into work that he had no time to reflect on the present. He became single-minded in his determination to focus on work, and _only work_, that he actually managed to make himself forget during business hours. But at night, when he crawled into bed at whichever hotel he was staying at, it would all flood back and he felt Blair's absence so much, it was debilitating. He heard her voice taunting him in an endless loop—_you were right, you'll never stop hurting me. _ It resulted in the same reaction every night—waking up in a panicked sweat. On the rare occasion that sleep didn't elude him, it was dreamless and more often then not, he would wake up even more exhausted. It was miraculous that he didn't lookhaggard and rundown, and the rush of adrenaline he got from excelling at his vocation was his only form of release.

Chuck was still nursing the same glass of scotch he had for the past two hours, but it had been barely touched. He had hoped to take a bit of the edge off of returning to New York, but he knew he needed to refrain from drowning his sorrows—and right now, it was a fine line. He could feel the energy of the city wash over him, as his carefully constructed façade was on the verge of crumbling. With a sigh, he stood up and pushed the scotch away, before his flight team could ask for the third time if there was something wrong. He reached for his briefcase and gave a dismissive nod before walking off the plane and into his awaiting limo, barely acknowledging Arthur's greeting. Nervously he stared out the tinted windows as the city lights taunted him, bringing him closer and closer to the place that he thought of as his home.

The _ding_ of the elevator doors sliding shut had him swallowing hard. His eyes were tightly closed as he counted backwards from one hundred, trying to calm his racing nerves. When he stepped into the penthouse hallway, his heart skipped a beat, there was a light on. _Blair!_ But then he remembered his phone call with Hen a couple of days ago, the combination of concern and curiosity at Blair's early arrival. Chuck had brushed off Hen's half-assed attempt at an interrogation. Avoiding the inevitable, he walked to the bar in the great room, and poured himself a tumbler of scotch, he had a feeling he would actually finish it this time.

He meandered from room to room, trying to discern if there were missing items, any sort of clue or hint that Blair wasn't as angry as he knew her to be. Unfortunately, everything seemed exactly the way he had left things—although he did note with some vague amusement that she had removed the puce-colored desk lamp from his home office. With a snaillike pace, Chuck made his way to their bedroom and stood outside. He leaned his forehead to rest against the door, as his hand barely brushed against the knob.

He forced himself to take a firm grip, turned the handle and pushed open the door. The first thing he noticed was the wardrobe that had blockaded the direct entrance from the bedroom into her closet had been removed. He heard Blair's message loud and clear—_if_ things were going to work out, she would allow for no more barriers between them.

For the first time since he had bought the penthouse, he felt like an interloper. It seemed almost _wrong_ that he was in the property that he had bought for Blair, without her. Her closet door was ajar, and he couldn't help but feel the need to explore it, see if there were telltale signs of her pleasure from his gift—discover if she had taken any items with her. Instead he opted to walk into the bathroom first. His heart dropped when he saw that her side of the double sink was empty. She had taken every last toiletry with her. Next he went into _his_ closet that he had shared with Blair for the past couple of months. Chuck had had his closet rearranged to accommodate Blair and her many clothes, but it had been returned to its previous state—and not one single item of hers had been left behind. It looked as though she had never inhabited the space to begin with.

He ignored the sense of foreboding as he finally made his way through _her _closet that he knew like the back of his hand. It was virtually identical to how it had been the last time he had been in there. The only thing that was different was the deed to the penthouse in her name sitting atop her vanity. Chuck noted in relief that her keycard was not there with it. It could only mean one thing, she hadn't decided yet if things between them were over.

He gulped down half of his scotch as he sat on the stool in front of the vanity. He wanted to crumple the deed for erringly revealing too much to her—it was _supposed_ to show her how much he loved her, not be the thing that finally pushed her away. There were dried tear stains on the document and his heart started to beat erratically. _What had he done?_ But better yet—_was there anything he could do to fix this?_

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His arrival to San Francisco was met without one measure of fanfare. And he wasn't terribly surprised that Blair's only modification to their reservations at The Fairmont's Presidential Suite was the length. In fact, he didn't want to even contemplate the astronomical bill he was certain he'd see at the end of the weekend. He was more than aware that this was a small way for Blair to exact some sort of revenge for his behavior, but he was more than willing to pay the price if she would just talk to him. Originally he had thought the opulent setting would be a perfect way to kickstart their weeklong vacation, but now he wasn't sure _what _he was arriving to. He had been certain Blair would be charmed with the historical grandeur of the building, the breathtaking views and the quaint cable cars that still ran on the street below them, and if the weather was cooperative, they could breakfast leisurely out on the terrace.

As the bellboy escorted him through the private elevator and into his temporary home for the next two days, he couldn't help but wonder if Blair was waiting for him inside. Dorota had called him on Thursday to relay that Blair would prefer he not arrive until Saturday, specifically, just a couple of hours prior to the start of the rehearsal dinner. Before he could even begin to object, Dorota had explained that should he be so inclined to show up unannounced, Blair would find alternative lodgings for the remainder of their stay.

Indecision wrestled inside of him, as he had actually been tempted to call her on her bluff. He had enough connections that he could effectively box her out of all the hotels she would prefer to stay at in San Francisco, but somehow he didn't think that she would see it his way. Chuck was certain she'd rail at him for thinking that it would be considered a romantic gesture, just to keep her close to him—and somehow he knew she'd find a Holiday Inn or Motel 6 just out of pure spite.

Dorota must have sensed him vacillating as she uncharacteristically offered him advice—now would _not_ be the best time to issue demands. In fact, her charge was doing everything possible not to come unhinged, and right now this was her only form of control. Her longtime maid's insight had done more than enough to shame him into submitting to Blair's request. And any inkling of fight on this topic had melted away. He had spent almost the entire time he'd been back in New York in his office at Bass Industries, and had even taken to sleeping on the couch. The penthouse felt too much like a prison for him, haunting him with memories of the idyllic life of domesticity he had shared with Blair.

The butler's greeting was what snapped him from his reverie, and it quickly became clear that Blair was not in residence. In fact, he was soon alerted that she spent the previous evening in Calistoga, after her indulgence in the Hot Springs had allegedly worn her out. He did not bother to disguise the mixture of amusement and irritation that he felt when the butler further informed him that Miss Waldorf was not scheduled to return for a couple more hours. Chuck remained silent when he learned he had been relegated to the lesser of the master suites, but merely asked which room Blair occupied. After dismissing the butler to unpack his belongings, he attempted to enter Blair's suite, but low and behold—it was locked.

Chuck prowled around the over 6,000 square foot suite, feeling like a caged tiger. He was far too restless to work. It took less than ten minutes of knocking around the pool table in the billiard room before he got bored and abandoned it in favor of a scotch on the terrace, but neither the million dollar views nor his beverage of choice did anything to abate his ravaged nerves. The fresh air did little to help as his eyes were locked on his watch, counting the minutes that ticked by until he would see her again.

Eventually it was tinkering on the grand piano that worked to distract him for the next three hours, as he partook in his long-abandoned skill. He played well, but by no means was he any sort of great musical talent. Bart had always said his mother had wanted him to learn to play, but after the Elizabeth Fisher incident, Chuck had found himself wondering if that too had all been a lie. That had been the cause of him giving up the ivory keys, but right now, he needed to funnel all his pent-up emotions into some form of expression. As he hit the final strains of Chopin's Nocturne in E major Op 62 No 2, he heard the contrasting clicking of Blair's heels.

Although nothing between them was right, he couldn't stop the smile of relief on his face when she appeared in the doorway, his eyes devouring every detail, as though he were a blind man, who had just regained his sight. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she headed towards her bedroom door, as she removed a key from her purse.

"Blair," he called out softly.

"Later," she stated in steely tone, as she busied herself with her door so she would not have to meet his glance. "I need to get dressed for the rehearsal dinner. We have to leave in less than an hour."

He wanted to object, but she had him by the tender hooks. He didn't want to be forced to wait even longer to ask her if he was losing her. But before he could open his mouth, the sound of footsteps had him turning towards the entry as a bellboy walked in carrying a bevy of shopping bags. Blair opened the door and gestured for her items to be set inside, as Chuck stood up and leaned against the piano until there was an audience no more. Her back was still to him, but she had not disappeared into the sanctuary of her suite.

"Don't shut me out," he said gently as he heard the main door to the suite close. "You can't avoid me, _this_."

"I can avoid you and this as long as I want," she hissed as she finally turned around to glare at him. With a flash of pain in her eyes, she mocked him. "I've _earned_ it, wouldn't you say?"

"Please, Blair—"

"I said I don't want to talk about this right now," she snapped.

She stilled herself as he could see she was counting to ten.

"Tonight is about Henry and Hugh," Blair said coolly. "If you so much as _hint_ that things aren't as they should be between us, there will be hell to pay. Are we clear?"

Chuck nodded slowly as he swallowed a sigh of frustration.

Her only response was slamming the door loudly.

He rested his head against the top of the piano, wanting to slam his head repeatedly. Instead he retook his position on the piano bench and mentally selected one of Chopin's etudes and began to play—apparently he would not be getting any answers anytime soon.

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It had been torturous getting through the rehearsal dinner. As per Blair's instruction, he had put on the performance of lifetime, belying the fact that he was dying inside. He had been subjected to playing the doting boyfriend, but was being allowed no more physical gestures of affection, other than a casual arm around her shoulders or a light peck on the cheek. He had noted the surprise on Hen's face that not only had they arrived _on time_ for rehearsal dinner, but her shock at the remarkable lack of any sort of physical display. Blair had laughed it off easily, as she slipped into her UES society mode, and he had followed her lead.

They were alone in the living room of their suite for less than a full minute when Chuck couldn't help but blurt out his all-important question. "Am I losing you?"

"I don't know," Blair admitted after a long pause. "Maybe."

Chuck felt his heart drop, but he wasn't completely shocked by her answer, after all, he had been the one who had driven her to this.

Before he could even beg, she spun around to face him and demanded, "How long?"

"How long, what?" He asked slowly. He was confused. Whatever she wanted, he would give her. She just couldn't leave him—she had to let him make everything right.

"_How long?_" She reiterated. "How much longer are you going to need before you finally convince yourself that you can never hurt me again? A week? A month? A year? Five years? Ten? _How long_?"

He just stared at her.

"It occurred to me that this alleged trial period, was only the first of many, wasn't it?"

He couldn't answer her question.

"I need to know, _how long_ until you trust yourself, or trust that I won't leave you, or whatever you think it is that's stopping us from working?"

"I don't know," Chuck answered honestly.

Tears glistened in her eyes, and the lump in his throat suddenly became much too large for him to swallow. He watched helplessly as she struggled to compose herself. She stifled back a sob and wiped away a tear that trickled down her cheek. Taking a deep breath, she brokenly asked, "Then what the hell are we doing, Chuck?"

"Blair, I'm _trying_," he pleaded. "You have to believe me. I just want to protect you—make sure I _can't_ hurt you again. The only thing I'm asking for is time."

"You've had almost five years," she said pointedly. Suddenly, she looked at him angrily. "I think I've been more than patient. I want all of you—the good _and _the bad. If you can't share every last bit, it's not even real. Somewhere inside you is _my _Chuck Bass, the one I fell in love with—the man who didn't change because of _me_, but changed because he knew that to be with me, he wanted to be a better version of himself. But the man standing in front of me, I don't even recognize him anymore—because he's a coward. You know the Chuck Bass that you've completely buried? He might have hurt me and been selfish, but at least he wasn't afraid to fuck up, and _he _was real—not some imposter who's torturing us both because he still doesn't know if he's sure I want to be with him."

"So my remorse means nothing to you?"

"It means _everything_. The problem is, there's a difference between being repentant and refusing to move on. Chuck, I've already forgiven you. So why are you doing this to us?"

"Do you actually think I'm enjoying what this is doing to you? To me? To _us_?" He asked in disbelief. "I can't just snap my fingers and make myself un-feel things, Blair."

"Well, I'm standing right in front of you and if you can't just reach out and grab me," she paused. The silence between them stretched. "I can't promise that when you're ready to, I'll still be here waiting."

Her words fell like stabs to his heart. He whispered her name as he reached out to grab her hand, but she jumped back and shook her head fiercely. Blair walked towards her bedroom door and opened it, her hand resting on the knob. "I love you, Chuck…"

"But?" He questioned desperately.

"We will _never_ be safe," she said hoarsely. "So get over your fears for _me_."

Chuck steadied himself with the back of an armchair. She threw the words back in his face that he had so proudly dispensed to her those many years ago.

"Blair," he called out.

"_Good night, _Chuck."

And before he could say another word, she shut the door softly and he heard the click of the lock.

.

.

.

It was a warm September morning on the day of Henry's wedding. Chuck was relieved, because that had been the singular thing Hen had stressed over—the weather not being just so. He was secretly impressed that she had managed to plan a wedding in six weeks without being even remotely a Bridezilla about it either. The weather had been the only thing that she had worried incessantly about—he had dropped not so subtle hints that New York would be a far more appropriate place for a wedding. But she had stood firm—Hen had declared that not only had she been born in San Francisco, she lived there with Hugh, had memories of her parents, and had lost and found love there. It wasn't until she had finally confided in him, as cheesy as it was, that she couldn't live without having her wedding photos taken at the Palace of Fine Arts, that her revelation all made sense. The sole adornment Hen had kept on her office desk was a picture of herself at four years old with her parents at the historic structure.

Despite having caved in and allowing him to pay for her wedding, she had been insistent that Chuck not further attempt to gift her with something extravagant. However, Hen was still smarting from Blair's failed attempt—which Chuck had fully backed—of acquiring Hugh's video game company to force a geographical shift in location to New York. Hen had been more livid that he could have anticipated, and for a moment Chuck had seriously thought she was going to tell him that she no longer wished for him to walk her down the aisle. While Hugh had been surprisingly indifferent about the entire matter, especially since he stood to make an obscene amount of money, Hen had been borderline inconsolable.

By pulling every last favor he was owed, Chuck had found a way to make it up to her—sort of. Writing checks in an exorbitant amount to the city of San Francisco and paying for a fleet of private security, he had managed to shut off public access to the entire grounds of the Palace of Fine Arts for a measly two hours. There would be plenty of time for a short outdoor ceremony and more than enough time for lots and lots of photographs. Hen had only invited a few of her parents' close friends who were still in the area, as well as her old roommates from Stanford, but other than that, Chuck and Blair had been her only other guests. In fact, she didn't even have a single bridesmaid or maid of honor, not even a flower girl or ring boy. Apparently she wanted none of the frippery—just to finally marry Hugh. The bulk of the guests were comprised predominantly of Hugh's family and friends. Chuck still marveled that Hen could so easily allow herself to get absorbed into his world.

They had set up a makeshift dressing room in the lobby of the Exploratorium for her that Hen hadn't even wanted that—she had been more than content to get dressed at home. But Blair had been adamant, and in all honesty, Hen had been too happy to care. Watching her now, he wondered if she even knew he was there. After the make-up artist had left nearly twenty minutes ago, she remained seated in the chair and not spoken a word. She was completely lost in her own thoughts.

Even now as he stood in front of Hen, all he could think of was his exchange with Blair that morning. It had been almost impossible to fall asleep last night, he kept tossing and turning, and had gotten so far as to walk out of his room and loiter in front of Blair's door, _twice_. His hand had reached out to stroke the wooden panels, as Chuck wondered if he was pushing his luck by even considering knocking. Chuck had stepped away both times, before succumbing to a display of neediness. Somehow, just before dawn streaked, he had managed to snag a couple of much needed hours of shuteye.

_Chuck sat at the dining table sipping his espresso as he attempted to read the front page of the newspaper for the nth time that morning. There was so much nervous energy thrumming through his veins that adding caffeine to the mix was probably not the best idea, but he needed the familiar routine to stop him from banging on her bedroom door and begging for her forgiveness. He could not continue to put her in a position to compromise, and he knew that her capacity to love him was far too large for her own good. All her words from last night kept ridiculing him—he had had a series of nightmares, every time he reached out to hold her, she managed to slip through his fingers. _

_He let out an unconscious sigh of relief when Blair's door opened and she appeared in the living area of their suite. Blair still looked sleepy-eyed, but deliciously rumpled in her floor-length, navy dressing robe. She walked towards the table and sat across from him._

"_Morning," he said softly._

"_Morning," she returned gently. She reached for the pot of coffee and poured herself a cup._

_Chuck watched as she added some cream and carefully stirred. Every movement and gesture served as a reminder of just how delicate and lovely she was. His eyes greedily drank her in completely, committing every part of her to his memory._

"_You are stunning," he whispered reverently, before he could stop himself. His heart started thumping loudly. _

_Blair raised her brow as she looked at him oddly. Bringing the porcelain cup to her lips, she took a sip, trying to hide her smile of amusement. "Thank you?"_

_This was what he wanted to wake up to every morning for the rest of his life—why he couldn't stop himself from repeatedly fucking things up, was beyond him. _

"_About today—"_

_She interrupted him by raising her hand and simply nodded. "I agree."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Just because we're not on the same page, doesn't mean that I stopped loving you overnight. Today is Henry's day, and I want to enjoy her day without being at odds with you."_

"_I don't want you to have to pretend, Blair."_

"_I won't be," she promised. "You and I are still figuring out what we have between us, aren't we?"_

"_And what do we have, Blair?"_

"_Today," she answered as she met his eyes. "Let's just enjoy today."_

_He waited a moment before nodding. Very quietly he asked, "If we're enjoying today, do you think it would be possible for me to hold you? It's been nearly a month since I've seen or held you, and it's killing me to be this close to you and be unable to touch you."_

_She bit her lip before replying, "Yes, of course."_

_Chuck was at her side in seconds and he scooped her up in his arms and buried his head into her neck. It was minutes before either of them moved, and when Blair had finally eased and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face against his chest, the knot in his stomach slowly started to loosen. He daren't kiss her, because up until now, he hadn't known if she would allow him to hold her—it had to be more than enough._

_He couldn't stop the tears that trickled down his cheek, nor did he want to. He felt no shame at the intensity of his emotions for her. He pulled away only so he could tip her chin up and meet her eyes. "I can't lose you, Blair."_

_Her eyes watered. She sniffled, before reaching out to wipe the tears from his cheek. "I don't want you to, Chuck."_

He couldn't shake the feeling that this was the closest he had ever come to losing her. Despite _everything_ they had gone through, his future had never felt so bleak. Closing his eyes, he could see the endless monotony of a lifetime without Blair, the thought alone sent shards of pain through his body.

He shook his head to expel the vision of nothingness and tried to focus on the present. He realized there was a question he desperately wanted Hen to answer for him. Despite the fact that this was _her _day, he was going to be unable to stop himself from acting so selfishly. But who was he kidding anyway—he was Chuck Bass, and only Chuck Bass would make somebody else's wedding be about Blair Waldorf and himself.

Standing next to Hen, he met her eyes in the mirror and he quietly said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she beamed.

Hen had never looked more beautiful to him. Again, she had surprised him with her choice in dress, it was simple and whimsical—she looked like a fairy. She wore a strapless, just off-white dress with a netted tulle skirt that fell just past her knees with a matching veil that stopped at her shoulders. Henry was positively glowing with excitement, and suddenly he felt foolish for even thinking of voicing his question, especially right now.

She turned and reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. "Chuck?"

"Are you _sure_ you want this?" He asked nervously.

"I have never been more certain of anything in my entire life," she breathed dreamily.

"If he hurts you again…"

"Oh, but he will. You can bet on it," Hen reassured him.

"Then why are you doing this?" Chuck asked as he tried to make sense of the risk she was about to take.

"Because it is just as certain that I will also hurt him. It's life, Chuck, we can't help it—people hurt people. But people also love people—and I have no doubt that he loves me as much as I love him. He _sees_ me, all of me, and he still loves me," she said, her eyes twinkling with tears.

"I see you, too," he said stubbornly.

"Yes, you see me as a security blanket you're using as a substitute for the woman you worship," she teased gently. "Who incidentally has been standing in front of you this whole time—all you have to do is reach out and hold her to you and never let go."

"I _want_ to, so badly, Hen, I just don't know _how_."

"Chuck, you gave her a gift all those years ago, when you stood back and let her go. _She_ came back to you, what more could you want?"

"To only make her happy, for the rest of my life."

"So make her happy, Chuck. You know what you have to do."

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Do you _really_ forgive Hugh? Do you mean it?"

"It's not a competition of who screwed who over more. But yes, I really _do_ forgive him, and I _really_ mean it. You know, Hugh didn't just let me go—he flung me far, far away from him. In a few minutes, however, I'm going to be his, _forever_. Because despite everything he did wrong, he did the most important thing right—he loves me for me."

"I'm making a mess of things, aren't I?"

"So much," she agreed wryly. "I don't even have the words to begin describing it."

"I don't want to be that guy, you know—the one that keeps needing to make things right, undoing the wrongs."

"You're searching for answers to a question that only _you _can answer, Chuck," Hen said wisely. "If you stop listening to your brain for long enough, you can trust what your heart is telling you. I think you've waited long enough for this opportunity, don't waste it."

"Hen, I know I never tell you this enough, but thank you for everything."

She stood up from her seat and gave him a hug. "You're the little brother I never wanted,"

"Ditto," he laughed.

There was a knock at the door, and Henry started bouncing up and down. The eagerness for the ceremony to begin was all over her face, and he couldn't help but chuckle. He lifted her veil and kissed her on the cheek before tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

"Let's go get you married."

.

.

.

For Henry and Hugh's reception, they had bought out a restaurant in Fisherman's Wharf. Despite the touristy address, it was a restaurant the pair liked to go to for drinks and occasionally catch a jazz band or two. There was something old-worldly about the place, with the ceilings well over twenty feet high and dim lighting that made the restaurant feel even more intimate. Every selection made by the couple was very revealing—nothing but subtly.

Once his duty dance with the bride had been checked off the list, he had been circling the room lethargically—always aware of where Blair was at any given moment. Chuck wanted nothing more than to be next to her, but she seemed content to flit from table to table, acquainting herself with Henry and Hugh's friends and family. So instead of crowding her, he eye-stalked her and kept his distance.

He leaned against a pillar and watched as Hen and her now _husband_, still danced with one another. This was their sixth dance in a row, and they appeared to be oblivious of the guests cooing at their sweetness, as the ten-piece jazz group, complete with both a male and female vocalist crooned in the background. In fact, they displayed no signs of stopping any time soon, nor did they show any signs of tearing their eyes from one another. He recognized that look—it was love, it was trust—it was about taking a leap of faith.

All afternoon he'd felt the warning bells telling him that by the end of the evening everything would be settled between him and Blair, once and for all. During the wedding vows, he had instinctively reached for her hand and pressed a kiss to it, as the bride and groom exchanged _I do's_. When Blair had squeezed his hand back, his heart had clenched at her warmth.

Reflecting on it now, he didn't know how she always managed to do that. How when it felt as though they were at odds and seemingly would never be able to work things through, she made him feel as though he was worthy of love and that there was always a chance that she would let him win her back.

_The true reason, I should stay right where I am, and not get in the car. Three words, eight letters, say it and I'm yours. _

_I suppose there could be some excruciating pleasure in that._

_We both know I'm your one and only._

_The worst thing you've ever done—the darkest thought you've ever had, I will stand by you through anything._

_Because I love you._

_I'll always be here! I don't want you going anywhere. I couldn't bear it. So whatever you want to do to yourself, please don't do that to me._

_I believed in you. Your father believed in you. You...are the only one who didn't. All I wanted to do was...just, be there._

_Then look down deep, into the soul I know you have, and tell me if what you feel for me is real, or if it's just a game. If it's real, we'll figure it out...all of us. _

_You can't run, you have to stay here and hear it this time._

_Justify not seeing Lily all you want, you and I both know what this is. You've lost Bart, Elizabeth betrayed you, and the thought of losing Lily terrifies you._

_But if you were really hurt, I would want to know._

_Someone did love you. And you owe it to her and everyone else you're leaving behind not to run away—which is what you're doing. And I don't think the great man you're talking about wanting to be is a coward. I think he would face up to what he did._

_But it wouldn't be my world without you in it._

Chuck had never stopped believing that they were inevitable, because she had always empowered him to feel that way. Turning slightly, he brought her into the center of his periphery. All afternoon he had been unable to stop his gaze from being glued to her figure. He knew that it wasn't just about how amazingly sexy she looked in her silver-grey strapless dress that clung gloriously in all the right places. This was about the fact that he was afraid to let her out of his sight—that if he did, she would vanish into thin air.

She must have felt his gaze on her, or rather, felt it more intensely than the moment before, because her back straightened as she looked over her shoulders and met his eyes. Her expression softened as her lips transformed into that bewitching smile that had kept him enslaved all these years. He was transported back to the moment at Victrola when she looked at him from the stage—one part shy vixen and one part natural temptress. It was the first time he had seen her for everything she was—the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, his equal and his future goddess. That was when she had stopped being his best friend's girlfriend and favorite plotting partner, and became _Blair Waldorf_. And that girl he had fallen in love with would always be a part of her. Just like the boy she had fallen in love with, claimed she _still_ loved, would always be a part of him.

_You're disgusting,_

_If you weren't such a perv, I'm sure the CIA would hire you in a second. _

_Good thing someone at the party was as lecherous as you, or you'd still be up on that roof. And no, I don't want to know what you had to do to get that tux._

_You nauseate me._

_You almost made a fool of me in front of the New York Times, which proves my very point—you can't be trusted. _

_I know that look, it's the look when your plan falls into place. You're enjoying this. _

_And you know what you give to everyone, Chuck? Misery._

_What, dishonest? Bad news? He can't be any worse than you._

_You twisted, manipulative psychopath._

As the barrage of insults, words said in anger and witticisms rang in his ears, that was when he finally knew, he actually _got it. _It didn't matter that he was a collection of damaged bits and pieces with more darkness than light, she had known this all along and still—_she loved him for him_. To ask her to continue to pay the price for _his _past behavior was beyond ridiculous. He was supposed to make her happy, not be the one that stood in the way. He was going to make this right—he was hers and she was his. And he didn't want to wait one minute or even one second longer—because he loved her, and nothing else mattered.

He made his way to the edge of platform where the band was playing, and waived the conductor to him. He gestured towards Blair and whispered some instructions, before confidently striding over to the love of his life.

She had returned to her animated discussion with Hugh's brother, Mike and his girlfriend, and so there was no warning for her to brace herself for his arrival. Slipping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss at her throat, he felt her heartbeat race as he smiled against the softness of her skin.

Chuck looked up and smoothly said, "Sorry to interrupt, but I need to steal away the most beautiful woman in the room for a dance."

The other couple good-naturedly shooed them away as Blair pulled out of his grasp to face him, her arms crossed, brow arched.

"I believe this dance is mine," he smirked.

"Is it, now?" Blair asked haughtily, but he didn't miss the sparkle in her eyes.

"It is," Chuck replied firmly, the look of entitlement stamped clearly on his face.

He held out his hand as she rolled her eyes. With a theatrical sigh, she extended her arm, as he bowed down and kissed her hand. He felt her body relax just a fraction, and when his eyes met hers, he laced their fingers together before escorting her onto the dance floor. With a flourish, he twirled her around dramatically, as she was unable to keep the peal of laughter from escaping her.

"What's gotten into you?" She asked curiously, as he pulled her flush against his body.

His thumb lightly stroked the base of her spine, as he reveled having her in his arms again. _He was never going to let her go._ His lips twitched as he answered nonchalantly, "What if I told you I knew where _your _Chuck Bass was, right now?"

Blair's eyes widened for a moment before she swallowed her amusement. Narrowing her eyes, she said in a voice dripping with sass, "I'd say let's get the bitch."

Chuck laughed heartily.

"Well?" Blair posited as she raised a brow. "Where has he been hiding all this time?"

He placed her hand he was holding on his heart, and then tenderly reached out to cup her cheek. "He's been here this whole time, he just lost his way."

"Will we be speaking in the third person the entire evening?" She asked archly, trying to cover the slight trembling in her voice.

"I'm here, Blair, I've always been, I just didn't realize it until now. But I should have known, from the moment you walked into the penthouse," he confessed.

"Why?" She whispered as she bit her lower lip.

"Because it was just a building, a place to live—until you walked in. That's when it stopped being a penthouse and it became a _home_. _You_ are my home, Blair."

He saw the hope leap into her eyes and could see that she was mentally taking a deep breath. Before he could make her doubt herself for one moment longer, he dived in, "I've been a complete and utter moron. You've been standing in front of me this whole time, and I've just been too stubborn to see it. If you'll have me, Blair, I'm yours."

"How do I know you mean it this time? That you won't get besieged by another wave of guilt?"

He heard the thread in her voice that was willing him to say the right thing, reassure her that she would never again have to doubt that everything they had been through was worth it.

"Well, for starters, I _am_ rather egotistical and self-indulgent," he baited.

"Tell me something I don't know," Blair said cheekily.

"The masochist in you, can't stop loving the narcissist in me," he said with a wink.

She rolled her eyes at him, but a small smile played on her lips.

"And there is no way that I could ever give up the bliss that is being loved by you," he divulged sincerely.

"I'm still listening," she bantered bravely as she stared up at him. He could see she was hovering on the brink.

The song that had been playing came to a close as the band shifted into Chuck's request. He knew the moment when she recognized the familiar strains as the female vocalist started to sing.

_Birds do it, bees do it__  
__Even educated fleas do it__  
__Let's do it, let's fall in love__  
_

"I love you, Blair," he pledged. He then deftly twirled her around before securely wrapping his arm around her waist, as he dipped her backwards, until she gave way and arched, tilting her head back.

_In Spain, the best upper sets do it__  
__Lithuanians and Letts do it__  
__Let's do it, let's fall in love__  
_

"You and your romantic gestures," Blair scolded lightly, her cheeks flushing from his surprise move.

_The Dutch in old Amsterdam do it__  
__Not to mention the Fins__  
__Folks in Siam do it - think of Siamese twins__  
_

In a solemn tone he said, "I want to be that man who's no longer scared of everything he's done to you. I want to spend the rest of my life worshipping you, not because I feel like I owe it to you, but because I just can't stop myself. I know now, that it's what I do from this moment forward that matters." A moment later he teased, "And if I need to be that smarmy asshole who chased you for years to prove to you that we're as inevitable now as we were back then, so be it."

_Some Argentines, without means, do it__  
__People say in Boston even beans do it__  
__Let's do it, let's fall in love_

"Promise?" Blair asked him seriously.

_Romantic sponges, they say, do it__  
__Oysters down in oyster bay do it__  
__Let's do it, let's fall in love__  
_

"I do," Chuck vowed with reverence.

_Cold Cape Cod clams, 'gainst their wish, do it__  
__Even lazy jellyfish, do it__  
__Let's do it, let's fall in love__  
_

"Then I suppose, I'll have to have you," Blair said in a playful tone of resignation that was offset by the expression on her face. She was radiating with so much happiness that she took his breath away. Instead of saying anything further, she lightly brushed her lips against his before resting her cheek on his chest, as she fitted herself against his body.

_Electric eels I might add do it__  
__Though it shocks em I know__  
__Why ask if shad do it - Waiter bring me__  
__"shad roe"_

He couldn't stop the smile on his face from stretching as he closed his eyes and rested his cheek on the top of her head. Moving to the beat of the music and luxuriating in the feel of her in his arms again, he didn't want anything to break the spell of that moment. There would be time for words later—the rest of their lives, really. But for now, all he wanted to do was dance with the woman he loved.

_In shallow shoals English soles do it__  
__Goldfish in the privacy of bowls do it__  
__Let's do it, let's fall in love_

.

.

.

_**fin**_

* * *

A/N: Thank you for taking this ride with me, I can't believe I'm finally done! Ok, well technically, there _is_ the epilogue, but still, I feel finished, hehehe. And for the record, the epilogue will be longest chapter yet—it seems I can't stop the details from creeping out of me. Sigh (not a fan of super long epilogues).

The song, FYI, "Let's Do It (Let's Fall in Love)" by Cole Porter, preferably sung by Ella Fitzgerald, but Dinah Washington's rendition is enjoyable as well.

This chapter is dedicated to EatTheHypeUp, who inspired me to end this story with a song once upon a January day when you couldn't stop talking about the song from the first chapter, so I thank you!

Special thanks to my beta, Noirreigne, who was forced to sit through more than one draft of this.

For my delta Ilu, you know I am lost without you, even if you drive me crazy unintentionally or on purpose.

For my honorary little sis Ollie (still fake hugging you, so hard), you are an amazing ball of you-ness—thank you for all the hand holding, I really needed it.

For all of the readers and reviewers who have encouraged me and continued to read, thank you!

I'm still avoiding all knowledge of the show post 4x11 - spoilers/speculations/S5, etc…so I would appreciate it if you could refrain from any mentions of the show, at all.

P.S. Avschick33 – I've been trying to reply to you via PM, but your PMs have been disabled for the past couple of months!


	25. epilogue: without a doubt

A fresh dusting of snow settled on the rooftops and city streets of Paris. It was early afternoon just three days before Christmas, and while the sun shined brightly, there was still a crisp chill in the air. As he walked along the crowded Boulevard, he slipped into the popular department store, Printemps, to locate the Agent Provocateur shop he had been instructed was inside. Stepping into the building, he shook his head, freeing some loose snow from his dark hair. He pulled off his gloves and slipped them into his coat pocket and slowly made his way to the escalator that would lead him downstairs to the underground level that housed the famed lingerie store.

It was a bit of a madhouse all around, last minute shopping for the Joyeux Noel just around the corner, being the largest culprit. Walking through the glass doors, he realized he was entering a place where women went in preparation for the seduction of their male counterparts. He noted that the store was filled with more men than women, as he watched some of his fellow, yet clearly clueless, brethren try to explain to the helpful sales staff what size they _thought_ their significant other might wear. He slowly spun around taking in the sights of the beautifully displayed creations of decadent fabrics—all designed to allure and entice.

Making his way towards the back wall, he began to flip through row after row of slips made from the smoothest silks and beautifully stitched laces. Almost every item in the shop was something he wanted to peel off the new woman in his life—it had only been a short couple of weeks since he had met her, but she had started to mend his heart that had been devastated by the loss of Blair. Part of him was tempted to simply purchase everything he fancied, but it might be a little too soon to shower her with too many tokens of his affection. He wanted to proceed cautiously this time—take things slow, do things right—actually paying attention to what the signs were telling him and not just what he wanted to hear.

His eyes fastened onto a white lacy babydoll slip, trimmed with marabou, a white satin ribbon tied into a bow worn across one shoulder. It was luxurious, but had just a hint of tawdry, and the idea of presenting it to Celeste excited him. He visualized untying the ribbon with his teeth and he had no doubt that the statuesque blonde would squeal in delight before sinking to her knees to show her gratitude. The further away he got from dark-haired brunettes with porcelain skin and ruby red lips, the better it would be for him.

As he kept assessing piece after piece of lingerie, all of which he assumed would only enhance Celeste's many charms, he got closer and closer towards the door that led to the private dressing rooms. From the corner of his eye, on the rack of items to be returned to the sales floor, he spotted a black sheer mesh corset that screamed so much more naughty than he had originally planned on. He hesitated a moment before entering the lounge area, but a quick glance told him that no sales attendant would be available for him, and it wasn't as if he was going into one of the rooms to peep. Laughing at himself for his unexpectedly prudish behavior, he charged up to the rack holding the tempting fabric. He noted with irony that it just happened to be Celeste's size—he had dutifully taken note of all the measurements that corresponded with her preferred brands.

While debating if purchasing both items would be viewed as too much of a declaration of interest, he distantly heard the sounds of heated grunting and moaning. As he stretched out an arm to take the garment off of the rack, a hauntingly familiar, but not quite placeable, feminine voice let off an impassioned curse—_fuck me harder, now!_ His eyes widened in merriment at the rather adventurous couple taking advantage of the holiday crush to make their own yuletide memories. Grabbing the corset, as he did not wish to play auditory voyeur, he was about to make his way back into the showroom, when the woman started moaning louder and louder—_Yes! Just like that!_ He couldn't shake off the feeling that he _knew_ that voice, it was so distinct. He uncharacteristically flushed a shade of red as she started to climax and he quickly stepped out of earshot.

Still, he managed to linger close by the dressing rooms—it wouldn't hurt to see who came out. He would make sure to be discreet, and the lady in question would have no idea that he bore witness to her little show. While loitering, he went back to the white babydoll that had first caught his eye, and selected Celeste's size—one for Noel and one for New Year's, he rationalized.

"We really _do _have to stop meeting like this." A deeply satisfied, gravelly male voice said.

His head snapped up as he recognized the one male voice he would know anywhere. Suddenly, he shuddered as he realized who the amorous occupants of the dressing room were.

"Perhaps if you kept your hands to yourself, I could spend my time actually _trying_ on these items instead of you ripping my clothes _off_ of me," the female voice huffed.

"Did _**I**_ attack _myself_ while we were at La Perla?" The man mused out loud. "I do recall an insatiable brunette grabbing me by my tie and dragging me into their dressing room. There is nothing more enjoyable than personally pulling your La Perlas in a bunch."

"That was almost two hours ago, Chuck," his ex-fiancé reasoned. Her voice was sultry and full of mischief, he noted. He could hear the happiness oozing out of her voice, and strangely he knew that it had absolutely nothing to do with her sexual satisfaction.

"When we arrive at Chantal Thomass, I may find the need to remind you of that, should you need convincing," Chuck smarmed.

From the mirror, Louis was unable to stop watching them, captivated by the couple's interactions.

Blair crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him. "If you think you'll get a repeat performance while they're fitting me for my custom items, you have another thing coming to you, Bass."

"Promises, promises," Chuck laughed. There was a playful glint in his eyes as he reached out and pulled Blair close to him.

She rolled her eyes, as her hands went straight to his tie, smoothing it to lie properly. Blair proceeded to run her fingers through his hair, trying to tame the same locks that she assuredly disarrayed.

Louis noted that there was no engagement ring on her finger, but found himself even more shocked when Blair tugged on Chuck's jacket lapels and pulled him towards her so she could brush her lips against his. But the kiss he witnessed—a mere three feet behind him—was no simple peck, it was an _I'm kissing you as though it were my last time_ type of kiss, in full view of everyone. When Chuck pulled away, he growled at her and Blair bit her lip as her eyes seemed to flood with a resurgence of lust. Louis grew uncomfortable as he debated between making a quick dash to the cash register or if he should just make a clean getaway and come back later after Chuck and Blair had left the shop.

"If you want, we can skip Carine Gilson and call it an early night," Blair offered.

Chuck snorted. "Please, so you can hold it over my head that you didn't get to go to every lingerie shop in Paris? We flew out an entire day early just so we could fulfill this request of yours."

"Well if someone would stop ruining all my delicates, than we wouldn't need to replace them all, would we?"

"That's impossible, Waldorf," Chuck said softly. "That would somehow imply that I didn't find you to be the sexiest and most fuckable woman alive—or that I have some semblance of self-control around you."

Blair's eyes twinkled as she glowed from his words. With a sly smile, she gently teased back, "I love how you make it seem like lingerie shopping is all about me, when you and I both know it's more like you're buying yourself a present you'll be unwrapping later."

Chuck shrugged. "I can't help it if I derive pleasure out of your spending my money."

"Well if that's the case, why don't we get two more of that Baroness Slip, I absolutely adore it, and so did you. Besides, it'll annoy me to no end when you shred it later tonight," Blair said cheekily.

"Whatever you want," Chuck said with a wink. "I'll have the sales girl add it to our pile."

"Don't be silly, I can just grab them myself. I don't want to wait forever. Plus, I'm suddenly ravenous for macarons. Nothing is better than knowing that Pierre Hermes is just around the block. Besides, the slips should be in the corner right there—Oompf!"

He cursed himself for being a half-step too slow. He had been so caught up in listening to their banter, that he hadn't managed to avoid Blair walking directly into him. As he bent down to pick up the items that fell from his hands, he heard a sharp intake of breath—one that belonged to someone very male.

"Louis," Blair greeted him warmly, as she leaned over and kissed each of his cheeks.

She looked absolutely beautiful, as always. It was almost startling that while his heart still skipped a beat, he didn't feel overwhelmed by the flood of emotions.

"Blair," he returned politely. He could feel the glare of her lover, boring into the side of his face as he pulled out of her light embrace. Louis nodded his head. "Bass."

"Grimaldi," Chuck clipped back, as he wrapped his arms around Blair's waist holding her close to him.

He noted how Chuck's stance was overtly possessive, but that Blair leaned back against him, as though it was the only place she was supposed to be—at his side.

"Joyeux Noel!" Blair said. She was either clearly unaware of the animosity between the two of them or entirely too amused.

"What brings you back to Paris?" He inquired.

"My parents, of course," she answered simply. Then she looked up at Chuck and with a wicked smile on her face said, "This one begged me to let him tagalong, went so far as to sneak into my carry-on. Now I'm subjected to his company for the next two weeks."

"You may want to check with your parental units, Waldorf. They called me daily, trying to insure that I'd accompany you. I think they miss _me_ more than they miss _you_," Chuck answered wryly. He ignored Blair's faux indignation and carried on. "In fact, the day before we left, Cyrus called me four times, and that was in addition to Eleanor's three calls."

Louis ignored the pang of irritation at the revelation that Cyrus preferred Chuck to him. He was well aware of Blair's very unorthodox, but close-knit relationship with her stepfather. She had always confided in Cyrus in a way she did not with her mother nor her father or Roman. Cyrus had always been perfectly friendly towards him, but Louis had never felt any sort of genuine warmth. Now, he understood the _why_, he apparently was championing Chuck's cause. And if that wasn't enough, he could not remember Eleanor ever calling him, unless it was to return one of _his_ calls. After he had proposed to Blair, however, there were frequent phone calls—but only to discuss the details of their engagement party.

"In that case, you can miss me while you pay for my items. I'm going to Pierre Hermes, I'll meet you at the limo?"

It seemed as though Blair's blatant distaste for limousines had disappeared with the reemergence of Chuck in her life. It was yet another reminder of how different this version of Blair was to the one he had been with.

"As you wish," Chuck agreed.

Blair turned back to him and looked at the items in his hands and smiled. "It seems like you're doing well, Louis. It was good to see you. Joyeux Noel!"

"It was good to see you, too," Louis admitted honestly. He couldn't help but add with just a hint of bitterness, "I don't think I've ever seen you happier."

She smiled back at him with a rueful, albeit radiant smile, before gazing at Chuck. She stood on her tip-toes and brushed her lips lightly against Chuck's. Without breaking eye contact from her lover, she answered, "I've never been happier in my life."

Louis watched as Chuck's entire countenance shifted. In adoration, Chuck brought her hand to his mouth, and kissed each finger tip, causing Blair to flush as she tugged her hand free reluctantly. Finally she turned to wave goodbye at him, before she shot one last look at Chuck and disappeared out the door.

The two men stared at each other warily. Louis was the first to look away. He turned his focus to the cash register that had only one customer in line, as the store had thinned out during their all too awkward encounter. Gesturing towards the register, Chuck nodded while leaning over to acquire the two slips Blair had requested, before following him into line.

"Congratulations on winning Blair," Louis said stiltedly.

"No thanks to you," Chuck acknowledged with a hint of an edge. "But from the looks of it, you seem to be moving on."

Briefly his thoughts turned to Celeste and he couldn't help but smile. "I am. And strangely, I think it's for the best, everything worked out as it should."

Chuck grunted as both men stood there unhappily.

"I'm surprised to see the absence of an engagement ring on Blair's finger," Louis admitted. "I thought that was the first thing you would do the moment she returned to you."

"You know _nothing_ about me or my relationship with Blair," Chuck hissed icily.

His eyes widened in shock. Clearly, this was a touchy subject. Instead of backing off, he found a strange joy in getting under Chuck's skin. After all, had the man in front of him not swooped in and stolen his future? Perhaps, it wasn't in the cards for he and Blair, but it could've been. Unable to stop himself, Louis continued to poke at the younger man. "If I were you, I would ask her, and quickly—she has been known to change her mind."

Before Chuck could open his mouth, another sales girl came up and began to ring up the large pile of items that Blair had collected. Louis internally chortled with glee that he had managed to get the last word.

When it was his turn to be rung up, the two men stood side by side, paying for the astronomically pricy scraps of fabric. Louis did his best not to gawk at the five-figure total Chuck had amassed. As the two men finished their transactions simultaneously, they both made their way out the door—Louis with his singular bag, Chuck with his half dozen.

Louis flashed a strained smile in the direction of his former opponent. "Hopefully we won't have to run into one another again. And as you Americans say, Merry Christmas."

He turned to make his way back to the escalator when Chuck's voice stopped him.

"Grimaldi."

Forced to turn back around, Louis met Chuck's eyes.

"If I were you, I'd watch your back. Despite the fact that you meddled, things worked out between Blair and myself—as they were destined to." Chuck issued out a warning, "However, _payback_ is my middle name. And you might find yourself battling against enemies you hadn't known existed."

He was confused by the younger man's words. What in the world was Chuck talking about? "Excuse me?"

"I've taken a recent interest in French pharmaceuticals. It's amazing how easy it was to accumulate a large block of shares, if you're willing to pay the right price," Chuck elaborated. "It would be a shame to see your family lose the strong grasp they have on the Board of Directors."

Louis was speechless as his head started to pound. "Are you _threatening_ me?"

"I prefer the term _friendly reminder_," Chuck said coolly. "I'm not planning on doing anything, _yet_. Perhaps, never."

"Blair wouldn't—"

"You don't know her like _I _do, never have, never will," Chuck mocked. "Besides, who do you think tipped me in that direction?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"You never know when I may wake up and decide that _today_ is the day I need to seek vengeance on you. The idea of watching you squirm brings me great pleasure," Chuck finished with steel in voice. "Joyeux Noel."

With that, Chuck turned on his heel and disappeared into the throng of the holiday shoppers, leaving a gaping Louis Grimaldi staring after his wake.

.

.

.

The drive from Paris to Harold and Roman's vineyard in Lyon was approximately five hours, give or take, depending on the traffic. They hadn't even been in the limo for an hour when Blair stretched out and laid her head into his lap and promptly fell asleep. After the unfortunate run-in with Louis, he had been insatiable last night—keeping her up until nearly six a.m. The unnecessary reminder that he had almost lost her to that frog disguised as a prince drove his need for the physical reassurance that she was his—and _only_ his. Blair had smiled indulgently, before she allowed herself to be ravished and then the smile had slipped from her lips as he made her sob his name all night. And the silk slip of lingerie purchased earlier that afternoon had been shredded to pieces—it really was a good thing they had bought more than one.

Chuck stroked her hair as she let out a slightly breathy moan. He loved staring at her in slumber, a habit they both shared, as one never tired of watching the other sleep. Using his forefinger, he started tracing the delicate lines of her face, before lingering to repeatedly run his finger against her lips. Regretfully, he forced himself to withdraw his hand, not wanting to wake her from her much needed rest—he had gotten to sleep until almost noon, while she had a nine a.m. breakfast date with Eleanor, Dorota and Anastasia. He and Blair were driving down to Lyon a day earlier than the Roses, who were to arrive in time for Christmas Eve dinner.

In all honesty, he was surprised that he had been unable to outsmart Blair and gain an audience alone with Eleanor and Cyrus. Although Harold may be her biological father, Chuck somehow knew that getting the Roses' permission to marry Blair would be equally as important. He had been certain that Blair would meet up with a friend or two, but she had surprised him when she told him that it was a family only trip.

She had looked him squarely in the eyes and said, "Other than Mother, Cyrus, Daddy and Roman—_you_ are the only person I want to spend time with."

When he had inquired if that excluded Dorota and Anastasia, Blair hadn't even bothered to answer him and just rolled her eyes. She knew he was purposely being obtuse, as they clearly fell in her special category of both the help _and_ family. Besides, why else would Chuck loan Dorota and her family the private jet so she could spend the holidays in Poland, if she wasn't family?

In a last ditch effort to steal a moment alone with Eleanor and Cyrus, Chuck had mentioned how he noticed that she hadn't bought her ridiculously large candy canes to bring to Lyon. Blair had paused for a moment and looked at him strangely, only to inform him that she had ordered them online and had them shipped directly to the vineyard at the beginning of the month. There was nothing else he could do but force a proud smile at her ingenuity.

Chuck sighed as he realized the need to plot out a way to get all four of her parents into a room and ask them for permission to marry their daughter. He was certain they would be thrilled that he had even bothered to ask, he would just have to omit the fact that he had already tried to propose on four separate occasions, and failed miserably. Well, technically, he _had_ actually proposed the first time, but it had been unplanned and did it count as a proposal if Blair had never heard or acknowledged it?

_He was fuming as he paced back and forth on the jet. He might have to fire Sam for scheduling this trip. He recalled his personal assistant promising that it was unavoidable—it would just be a short day trip to Chicago. _

_Ever since he and Blair returned from their week-long vacation to Greece—most of which had been spent on a private yacht, he couldn't remember being any happier. There was something eternally magical about Blair and how she managed to make each day more perfect than the last. He knew he was travelling into nauseatingly sappy territory—but he couldn't help that it was the case. He had never been filled with such peace before. _

_Unfortunately, the day before the Make-A-Wish Foundation fundraiser, that was being hosted by the NYU Business School, was when this urgent meeting was scheduled to take place. He had hoped that Blair would want to make the trip with him, seeing as her closest schoolmate from Yale resided there. But Blair had managed to finagle a spot on the planning committee earlier that month, despite her deferred status as a student. When she had shared the good news with him, she told him how thrilled she was that no one had even brought up _his _name or inquired if she could work her magic on him. She had managed to charm the committee by dangling her meticulous social connections alone, and therefore declined the offer to accompany him to the windy city. But not before she informed him that Bass Industries would be making a sizable donation, and he had been all too happy to open his checkbook. _

_What was supposed to be a six-hour trip, snowballed into an overnight stay when a leak had been discovered with the Bass jet. Of course Sam had taken advantage of the delay and scheduled three additional meetings for the following day—seeing as Chuck was already in Chicago. And then, if that hadn't been enough to keep him out of New York—a ten-car pile up on the way to O'Hare had set him back two more hours. This further soured his mood—he was already grumpy from having been unable to spend the night with Blair, in _their_ bed. He knew that he was lucky that they had managed to fix his jet in such an expedient manner, but due to the massive car accident that caused his tardiness, his jet had to wait to depart. As he sat in frustration, he decided that if his plane wasn't off the ground in ten minutes, he was prepared to fly commercial, just so he could show up to the fundraising event. _

_When he had spoken to Blair earlier while sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic waiting for the accident to be cleared, he could hear the disappointment in her voice. He knew she wasn't upset with him, and if anything, she completely understood. That had only amplified his desire to make it to the event, and he had teasingly reminded her that she had promised to wear the Herve Leger dress that he had custom made for her. But as the minutes ticked by, he knew she had left for the fundraiser without him to escort her, and he had been unable to stop pacing, refusing to buckle into his seat as the plane landed. _

_He all but ran down the plane stairs and leapt into the limo. Before he could decide if his suit would be sufficient for the event or if he had to stop at home to change, Arthur informed him that his tuxedo was hanging in the back of the car, as per Miss Waldorf's instruction. Chuck smiled gratefully as he raised the divider so he could slip into his formalwear. He sat back in his seat restlessly, while fiddling with his birthday cufflinks. A quick glance at his watch told him that he had missed the dinner outright, but he would make it in time for the schmoozing and dancing._

_Arthur could not open the door fast enough as Chuck rushed through media row in hot pursuit of his girlfriend. This was an important evening for her, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel as though her victories were less valuable than his—he wanted her to know he supported her completely. His eyes quickly scanned the room in search of his favorite brunette. He recognized the nape of her neck from a mile away and started to make his way through the crowded room. It was nearly thirty minutes later when he finally reached her—there were far too many familiar faces that had urged him to stop and chat that he simply could not ignore. _

_To his great displeasure, the sight that welcomed him was anything but. His exquisite girlfriend who looked absolutely fuckworthy in that short, black dress was locked into a far too animated discussion with a man whose eyes were hanging out of its sockets and all but staring down her dress. Chuck suppressed the urge to walk over and punch the man in his face, as Blair reached out and touched the stranger on his arm, while she threw her head back in laughter. The man leaned in closer, and whispered in her ear as she listened in rapt fascination. Unable to tolerate it any longer, he swooped in and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body flush against his as he pressed kisses onto her bare shoulder. _

"_Chuck!" Blair squealed as she turned around to throw her arms around him._

_Ignoring the man in their presence, he let his hands roam up and down her back, as he proceeded to kiss her possessively, leaving her breathless when he finally drew away minutes later. She pulled away from him slowly, lust clouding her eyes, but he detected the hint of confusion at his over-the-top display. _

_The jealousy that emanated in him reared its ugly head when Blair turned back to the stranger and tried to introduce him._

"_Chuck, this is Tom Simons, he's a prof—"_

"_Blair's boyfriend, Chuck Bass," he interrupted icily. He glared at the man whose eyes widened in recognition. _

_She looked at him oddly as he half-heartedly shook the man's hand. Tom glanced briefly over at Blair and back to him before he quickly made his excuses and left._

_Before Blair could even say a word, he pulled her back into his arms and pressed his forehead against hers. "I missed you."_

"_I missed you, too," she said softly with a smile. "You made it."_

"_I wouldn't have missed it for anything—I was even willing to fly commercial for you," he said conspiratorially. _

"_My knight in shining armor," she said mockingly as she adjusted his bowtie. _

_He smirked at her as she kept toying with his neckwear._

"_So, what was that all about with Tom?" She asked casually. "That was a bit rude, wouldn't you say?"_

"_Rude?" Chuck scoffed. _

"_Yes, _rude_," Blair said tightly. _

_He gently removed her hands from his neck, as he laced their fingers together. _

"_I don't know what you're talking about," he said smoothly. "You know I get tunnel vision when I see you—and it's been nearly thirty-six hours."_

_She pursed her lips for a moment before plastering on her society face. As the Holmbergs approached them, she murmured to him softly, "We'll talk about this when we get home."_

"_Not if I can help it," he muttered under his breath before greeting the chairman of the BI Board of Directors._

_Despite the tension that was bubbling beneath the surface, they had managed to avoid letting it ruin the night. Blair even sat in his lap on the ride home as they made out like high schoolers. But just as they stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse, the mood shifted._

_As Blair slipped out of her shoes and walked into her closet, she called out behind her, "Are you going to explain that little scene from earlier tonight?"_

"_What scene? We were scene-free," Chuck countered as he shrugged out of his coat, and undid his bow tie. He moved to the doorway of her closet and watched her place her shoes onto a shelf, before slipping off her earrings. _

"_Oh, so I was imagining the fact that you were being rude and dismissive to Tom when you arrived?" She asked as she turned around to face him. _

"_Yes," he said nonchalantly. _

"_I don't believe you," Blair said flatly. "What is this all about?"_

_He shrugged._

"_Just tell me what happened that made you behave like a jackass after you mauled me in front of a colleague?" She said in exasperation._

_He crossed his arms and said nothing. But Blair stared him down until he was forced to speak._

"You_," Chuck accused with a scowl on his face, "were doing that _Waldorf_ thing."_

"_Excuse me?" Blair sneered. "And what exactly is a 'Waldorf' thing?"_

"_Like you don't know," he childishly spat._

_She threw her arms up in disbelief as she hissed at him, "No, you idiot, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. So please enlighten me, just what is it that I've done."_

"_You know what you did, Blair," Chuck said stubbornly. He shook his head and refused to make eye contact with her. He had only been late two hours, and it hadn't even been _his_ fault!_

"_How old are you—six? Anastasia is better behaved than the way you're acting right now."_

"_I'm eight and a half," he said petulantly. _

"_Chuck," Blair said icily. "You have exactly sixty seconds to tell me what you meant, or so help me—I will kick you out of _my_ penthouse for the night."_

"_That's a little extreme, wouldn't you say?" He finally turned and arched a brow at her._

_She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, lifting her dainty wrist and tapping on an imaginary watch. _

"_Very well," he said crossly. "You were doing that thing, where you give your complete and full attention to a man, and fool him into thinking you're interested in him. You just turn those eyes of yours into limpid pools and make a man drown in your presence. And you were letting that stiff think he actually had a chance with you."_

"_ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Blair sputtered._

"_Nope."_

"_Chuck, if you had let me introduce you, you would know that he's a professor at NYU! I'll be taking classes with him next semester."_

"_I'm sure he'd just love some one-on-one private tutoring," he said sarcastically. He shook his head. "Blair, the man was undressing you with his eyes. Believe me when I tell you he had absolutely no interest in that devious little brain of yours. Your delectable body, however—now that was something that held his complete attention." _

_Blair stood in front of him in utter shock._

"_If you saw the expression on his face when I kissed you, you would believe me. Men cannot be trusted around beautiful women, and Blair, no one is more stunning than you are," Chuck said in a matter of fact voice. He couldn't resist adding, "You know, it wouldn't have hurt to let him know that you're taken. I'm sure your 'professor' has heard of me."_

"_You are fucking unbelievable!" Blair shrilled. "I'll have you know, we were just discussing the required reading. He was about to suggest some additional texts I might find interesting, seeing as I wanted a leg up on the competition. And for your information, he's married with a baby on the way."_

"_And you believed him?" Chuck scoffed. "It's not in you to be so gullible, Waldorf. But don't think you're blameless. Did you really have to wear _that_ dress?"_

_He should have known that he crossed the line when she froze in place. But he was far too irritated with the fact that he had witnessed this man practically drooling over Blair and she had been actively encouraging him._

"_Are you talking about _this_ dress?" She gestured towards the skintight garment on her body. "That _you_ bought for me?" _

"_I bought it for you to wear, when escorted by _me_." _

"_Then I guess someone should have been on time tonight, shouldn't he?"_

"_I told you, Blair, it wasn't my fault that there was a car accident on my way to O'Hare. I got here as quickly as possible. It's a miracle I was only two hours late."_

_She ignored him as she continued on. "And I wore this dress because _you_ asked me to wear it tonight. In fact, if I recall correctly, yesterday morning before you left, you told me that nothing would make you happier than if I wore this dress to the benefit. And then later this afternoon when you called, you reminded me just how much you wanted to see me in this dress. But apparently, I should've known better than to wear it anyway. Poor little, stupid Blair, can't be left unattended, because if she is, she will undoubtedly let every single man on the planet hit on her, and daresay, encourage him, all because some Basshole is late!"_

"_Blair, that's not what I said." Chuck gritted his teeth._

"_You are fucking ridiculous! Are you even hearing yourself? Do I ever tell you you're doing that _Bass_ thing, when you smirk at the twelve million women who throw themselves at you?" She shrieked at him. _

"_Blair—"_

"_No!_ You_ listen to _me_! I want to know how engaging in a conversation with a member of the opposite sex is suddenly _something_ I _do_? Am I not allowed to smile at a man? Should you write me a pre-approved list of men I'm allowed to interact with? Because if you think that's going to happen, you are sadly mistaken." She railed at him. "I don't even bat an eye when those gold digging hussies sidle up, put their hands all over you and try to shove their tongues down your throat! Do I cause a scene? Do I thrust myself between you and whomever, simply because you're being polite and smiling as to not draw attention to it? Of course not, because I'm not a NeanderBass!"_

_Her eyes were blazing and completely furious. And if he hadn't burst out into laughter in that exact moment, he was quite convinced she would have carried on for at least another hour. Once he started laughing, he just couldn't stop. This was their first real fight and there wasn't a single ounce of him that was scared he was going to lose her. He wanted to fight with her, and _only_ her, for the rest of his life._

_As a wide grin crossed his face, Blair screamed in frustration as she grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at his head._

"_Now, Blair," he started to say. "You exaggerate when you say twelve million women, perhaps there have been a couple of dozen, but—"_

"_URGH! I hate you!"_

_She placed her hands on his chest and pushed him towards the door._

"_Blair, it's not what you think, I'm not laughing at you—"_

_She pushed him even harder as she hissed at him. "No, why would I think that? Could it be your uncontrollable bout of, I don't know, laughter?"_

_He wanted to stop laughing, really he did, but she was being so adorable and he was so happy, that he just couldn't keep a straight face._

"_Well, you enjoy yourself in the guest room tonight, because you sure as hell aren't sleeping in here!"_

_The door slammed loudly and he heard the click of the lock falling into place. A smile remained on his face as he jiggled the handle to confirm what he already knew to be true. _

"_Blair," he whispered loudly. _

_He leaned against the door with a goofy smile on his face as his ear strained to hear a response._

"_Blair!" He sing-songed a minute later. _

_When it had been another few minutes free of any retorts, it became apparent he was receiving the silent treatment. He was curious to see how long that was going to last, especially with what he planned on saying next._

_Clearing his throat before using his most cajoling voice, he said, "Blair, I know you can hear me. And I'm sure you're so fucking annoyed with me that you want to kick me repeatedly. But the reason I was laughing isn't for the reason you think. It made me realize how lucky I am. There is no one else in the world I'd rather fight with, for the rest of my life, than you. So what do you say, Waldorf? Let's make it official—marry me."_

_He stood up straight and waited for the Blair to open the door or say something. It had been well over fifteen minutes when he realized that he was still waiting for an indication that she had even heard him. He pounded on the door._

"_I'm more than willing to beg, grovel at your feet, but make no mistake—we're getting married. A _yes_ would be an appropriate answer," Chuck said. _

_Still, there was no sign of life from the other side. He pressed his ear against the door but couldn't hear a thing. Maybe she was just making him wait? Willing to humor her, he plopped down on the floor and twiddled his thumbs. The distant sound of her cell phone ringing unanswered gave him an idea. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and quickly shot off a text—_I'm still waiting for an answer.

_Half an hour later, his humor started to fade, but he was determined to get her to break. He walked down the hall into his office and opened his safe to pull out the ring he had purchased so many years ago. He made his way back in front of their locked bedroom door and knocked firmly. _

"_If you say _yes_, it means I can never accuse you of doing that _Waldorf_ thing—because then it would be that _Bass_ thing," he teased. "And the minute I slide this ring on your finger, you're one step closer to becoming a Bass."_

_When two full hours had passed without a response he glared at the door as he stood up. Angrily he returned the ring to its home in the safe before heading to the living room to pour himself a scotch and then sprawled out on the couch. _

_It was four a.m. when the door to the master bedroom creaked opened and a figure made her way down the hall. She checked the other two bedrooms that were empty, before padding into the pitch-black living room where he laid, fast asleep._

"_Chuck!" Blair whispered into his ear as she leaned over._

_When he didn't move, she sat on the edge of couch and ran her hand through his hair before tugging lightly on his ear. She called his name, a fair bit louder, this time, "Chuck!"_

_He blinked open his eyes to a sheepish looking Blair._

"_What?" He growled at her. If she thought it would be cute to wake him up in the middle of the night to answer his question, she had another thing coming._

"_I can't sleep," she admitted. _

"_And how is that my problem?"_

"_Will you come to bed, Chuck?" She asked sweetly. "I can't fall asleep without you."_

"_No," he pouted. "If you're not going to answer my question, then I'm not going to help you fall sleep."_

"_What question?" Blair asked. _

"_The one I asked you while you were locking me out of our bedroom," he clarified. As if there could be any _other_ question he could be talking about._

"_If you asked me a question, I didn't hear you," she confessed. "I was so mad at you and I knew you were going to say something ridiculously sweet that would make me un-mad so I put on my headphones and watched a movie on my laptop."_

_He scowled at her—had his marriage proposal seriously fallen upon deaf ears?_

"_If you ask me again, I promise to answer," she propositioned. _

"_No," he said crossly. "It was a one time offer."_

_She looked at him in confusion. Rationally he knew it wasn't her fault that she hadn't heard him ask, but he was far too cranky to ask her again now. The moment had been lost—he'd have to come up with another way to ask her when he was being less bratty. Plus, he was still bitter that he hadn't been the one to remove the dress she wore earlier that evening. He closed his eyes and turned on his side, facing away from her._

"_Chuck, please come to bed," Blair asked again, while she traced a pattern on his back. _

_He shook his head and tried to ignore the tingle in his spine that came from her gentle touch._

"_Fine!"_

_He heard her walk out of the room and down the hall back to their bedroom. He hoped that he was going to be able to fall back asleep. A minute later he heard Blair's footsteps return. _

"_Move over," she muttered._

"_Huh?" Chuck rolled back over to look up at her. _

_In each hand was a pillow, with a blanket tucked under her arm._

"_Even though you were a total asshole tonight, I can't seem to fall asleep without you. So move over."_

_He took the pillows and then shifted to make room for her on the couch. She curled up next to him, dragging the blanket with her. It only took a moment for them to find a position that suited them both. Blair breathed a sigh of relief as she threw her leg over his, and burrowed her face into his neck as Chuck nuzzled her ear. Their hands were entwined on his chest._

_Just before he drifted back to sleep he murmured, "I love you, Blair."_

"_I love you, too," was her sleepy reply back._

_The next morning, he had woken up before she did, and carried her back to their room._

After that first botched proposal attempt, he became determined to propose to Blair, properly. As much as the romantic in him wanted to make it splashy and unforgettable, his heart told him that it just needed to be private and thoughtful—something simple to underlie just how right it really was.

In an ironic twist, the three other members of his inner circle were solely responsible for each of the next three failed proposal attempts. Perhaps if he had informed Nate, Serena and Hen ahead of time, that he had intended to propose, it might have aided his cause. But truthfully, there seemed to be something so _wrong_ about letting anyone know of his intentions _before_ Blair did. And somehow, he didn't think that she'd appreciate being the last to find out.

He gazed outside the tinted windows of the limo, as it steadily made its way through the roads, the city of Paris far behind them. The snow had stopped falling for a while now, and Chuck hoped that there would be no major delays getting to the vineyard. His hand absently played with the ends of Blair's hair, as she slept, oblivious to the outside world. She shifted positions and shivered. Moving gingerly, he reached for his thick, wool coat he had thrown on the seat adjacent to him when they first got into the car. Carefully he tucked it around her petite body, like a blanket, smiling as she snuggled closer to him, rubbing her chin slowly against his knee. She let out a sigh of contentment and continued to doze.

The first planned attempt of a proposal _should_ have been perfect. In honor of the anniversary of his fall from the ranks of UES playboy to a boy hopelessly in love, he closed down Victrola two days before her 25th birthday. He ordered the staff to scrub the stage floors meticulously, and planned for hundreds of candles and a bed of pillows for an indoor picnic. It seemed fitting for him to ask Blair to be his at the place he first _saw_ her. Everything had been arranged, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling all day. But when he got home to pick her up for their date—he had left instructions that she dress enticingly for a surprise evening—she was nowhere to be found. With the blindfold he had brought in hand, he made his way to their master bath, only to find her pale-faced and clutching the toilet as she wretched loudly. He had worriedly run to her in concern.

Apparently, Serena had _begged_ her to come over earlier and sample her attempts at cooking. In an effort to be more wifely, his blonde-haired sister had started taking private lessons from a chef, and wanted Blair's opinion on her progress. The end-result was food poisoning. All night, he sat on the floor of the bathroom with Blair, holding back her hair as she tried to expel the culinary disaster that Serena had made for her. Instead of slipping the ring on her finger and asking her to be his, he spent the evening being dispatched to fetch her sparkling water or a particular brand of crackers or wiping the sweat off her brow or cuddling with her on the cool limestone tile floors. Blair was whiny in her discomfort and had no wish to move a single muscle. Silently, Chuck had cursed the name _Carter Baizen_ all night, because even though Serena had been the one to make Blair ill, the fault clearly had to be laid at that insect's feet. He _knew_ Carter was not to be trusted, and leave it to him to ruin the most important evening of his life.

On the plus side, Chuck managed to figure out a different way to propose while he had kept her company watching Breakfast at Tiffany's on his laptop, while sitting on the bathroom floor, leaning against their Jacuzzi tub. Somewhere around two in the morning, Blair had finally been ready to crawl into bed and ordered him to carry her. When they were finally snuggled and about to fall asleep, she whispered her apologies to him and thanked him for being so sweet, and that she would more than make it up to him—she had something special planned for him. He had kissed her softly on the forehead and assured her it was fine.

When Thanksgiving rolled around and Blair had spent the morning helping Serena arrange the late lunch, Chuck was thrilled. She had wryly informed him the week before that Serena _needed_ her. Their original plans were to spend the turkey day in bed, just the two of them. But Lily and Rufus had decided to go to Dan and his wife's home this year, so Serena had jumped on the opportunity to play hostess as the newly minted Mrs. Baizen. Based on the food poisoning incident a few days prior, Chuck had adamantly refused to attend Serena's holiday meal—although truthfully, he didn't want her to ruin his third attempt at a proposal. Blair swore up and down that the meal in its entirety was being catered, and the most that Serena would do was open a bottle of wine, in order to get his compliance.

It had worked out to his advantage, because the minute Blair stepped into the limo, Dorota slid in through the main entrance door. Chuck spent his morning, under Dorota's tutelage, learning to bake Harold Waldorf's pumpkin pie. While it may not have looked as pristine as the ones Blair baked, he had done it himself, every last bit. He had been grateful that the trusty maid hadn't even asked him _why_ he wanted to learn to bake on this particular occasion, but he didn't miss her knowing smile. Later that night, when they returned home from what was sure to be an eventful Thanksgiving meal, he wanted to surprise Blair with champagne, homemade pie and the ring. He was certain that this time _nothing_ could go wrong.

To his satisfaction, everything was going smoothly when he arrived at Serena and Carter's home. It appeared that his Queen B of the Met Steps had everything well in hand, ordering the staff around as she had her minions back at Constance. Midway through the meal, a drunken Nate stumbled in, ruining the overly perfect and postcard feeling of the holiday lunch. It only took one veiled insult to turn the peaceful meal into a shouting match, as Nate continued to antagonize Serena and Blair. Carter had silently begged him to remove his friend from the premises, and one look at a teary-eyed Serena had him complying. Blair dragged Nate by the ear out of the Baizens' home and into the limo where he had broken down and started crying loudly. Chuck had exchanged a look with Blair, as they both were completely clueless as to what was going on with their friend. Surely this couldn't be because they were still ignoring him, could it?

They brought Nate back to the penthouse hoping to talk some sense into him. He had managed to stop blubbering when they stepped into the elevator. Still lacking sobriety, Nate first demanded a tour of the penthouse before asking for something to eat. When Blair led him into the kitchen, Nate's eyes lit up at the sight of the pumpkin pie Chuck had left on the counter. Before he could stop his friend, Nate grabbed a fork and started shoveling mouthfuls directly from the pie tin. Blair watched fascinated, while Chuck used every last shred of control not to leap over and snatch his gift for Blair. He was fuming and only slightly mollified by Nate's comments that the pie was _pretty tasty_.

Nate asking for something to drink was the final straw. Chuck hissed at his friend to tell him what was wrong, before he kicked him out. This was _not_ how he wanted to propose to Blair. Hopefully if he could just get Archibald to answer his question, then perhaps the evening would not be completely ruined—even if his pie had already been spoiled. After a labored sigh, and a puppy dog sadface look towards Blair, who rolled her eyes and got him a glass of milk, Nate finally admitted that his grandfather had been the cause of all of it. While at the Vanderbilt compound, apparently William had taken to lecturing him about the state of his love life—citing Serena, Blair and Chuck as examples of how to properly conduct a relationship. He had continued to scold him about having let both Serena and Blair slip through his fingers, and if even someone like _Chuck_ could maintain a monogamous relationship, there was no reason why Nate couldn't. If those barbs hadn't been bad enough, his grandfather had proceeded to inform him that a short list of women acceptable for Nate to be seen cavorting with would be provided. It was only when Nate had looked at him and asked _Why is it wrong for me to want to find what you have with Blair? Just because I'm exercising my right to be a manwhore, doesn't mean I don't want to fall in love_ that all the anger in Chuck faded away.

Blair had clucked in understanding as she slipped out of the room to give her two boys a moment alone. But Chuck suspected that she left more so she could call Serena and explain Nate's horrendous behavior. Nate had just sat on the counter and started pouring his heart out to him, talking about his ideas of love and why he found it so hard to settle down. It had gone on for over two hours, and any hopes of a romantic evening with his _girlfriend_—note, _not fiancé_, had vanished into thin air. Nate had promptly passed out on the couch shortly after his heartfelt confession.

When Dorota arrived the following morning as the trio ate breakfast, Blair thanked her maid for baking the pie, although it hadn't been up to her usual standards. Fortunately she didn't notice Chuck shaking his head furiously and silently communicating to Dorota not to say a word about his baking lesson. He watched as her maid glanced at Blair's bare ring finger before looking back at him, with a sympathetic look.

After that, Chuck decided he was taking no further chances and was trying to formulate a foolproof plan. When he spoke to Hen later that day, she mentioned that her and Hugh were throwing a housewarming party the following week, and extended the obligatory invitation to him and Blair—clearly expecting him to decline. As he was about to beg off, he realized that going to visit Hen would be the perfect guise to spirit Blair away from all of their friends and obligations. Other than the party, the weekend would be _theirs_, and better yet, _no interruptions_!

The party was set for Friday evening, and so Chuck planned to have them chauffeured to Napa the following afternoon for wine tasting, before surprising her with a Hot Air Balloon ride and proposing. It would be somewhat unconventional, more than a bit cheesy and definitely memorable. He was far too relaxed and too confident as they flew to the West Coast—but he should've known better. In fact, if he hadn't been certain that Blair _wanted_ to marry him, he would accuse her of self-sabotage. They hadn't been at Hen's new home for more than twenty minutes when Blair informed him that Hugh and Hen were joining them for wine tasting the following day. He had smiled easily while mentally stabbing himself in the eye a thousand times. Chuck was going to have to find a way for the newlyweds to rescind their acceptance without tipping his hand.

At brunch the following morning, Hen had turned to him and said that she and Hugh had hastily accepted the invitation and they would not be joining them. Chuck had breathed an internal sigh of relief, he knew he could count on Hen not to screw with his plans the way Serena and Nate had. He made all the right sounds of disappointment, but oversold it as Blair had found it necessary to kick him under the table. He managed to remain silent for most of the meal, happy in the knowledge that he would not have to cancel any of his plans. But as brunch wound down, and they were lingering over coffee, Hen had looked over at Hugh, who nodded and she cleared her throat.

Chuck knew in that moment with absolute certainty, whatever was about to happen was going to put more than a small road bump in their weekend plans. And a minute later, Hen announced that they were pregnant—ten weeks, but since they were family, she had forgone the mandatory three-month cone of silence. His _girlfriend_—again, note, _not fiancé_, squealed with joy and demanded they start shopping for the bundle of joy that very afternoon. A beat later, Hugh asked them both to be their unborn child's godparents—and Chuck was speechless. He was humbled by their request and thrilled for Hen, knowing just how desperately she wanted to have a baby. But there was a part of him that couldn't help but feel a bit frustrated as he wondered if there was ever going to be a time where some external factor wouldn't cause his plans to go awry. Needless to say, they did not make it to Napa that day, nor did Blair receive her proposal.

On the flight back to New York, Chuck spirits had been buoyed by the realization that Christmas was just over two weeks away. And perhaps, this was how it had been intended to be. With the holidays being spent in the company of Blair's family, perhaps the proper thing to do would be to ask her mother and all three of her fathers for her hand in marriage. It was just the sort of classic, traditional detail that Blair would love. And maybe, just _maybe _that was thereason behind all the missteps—because until he had her parents' stamp of approval, it wouldn't be right. Especially since Christmas was going to be just the six of them at the vineyard, Chuck was certain that he would manage to garner an audience with each of them, seeking their blessing. Then when he took her to New Zealand to ring in the New Year he could propose.

Blair stirred in his lap, as she stretched her arms and yawned loudly. Her eyes fluttered open slowly and she greeted him with her signature smile. His stomach fluttered. Sleepily she said, "Hi."

_Eight more days_.

.

.

.

It was the crunch of the gravel and the sound of a car door slamming that served as an alarm to welcome in Christmas Eve. He blinked his eyes slowly as he let out a yawn. Chuck looked down to see Blair still deep asleep and snuggled up against him. It amazed him that he never tired of waking up next to her and how it always brought a smile to his face—it was going to remain in his top three favorite sensations of all time. A quick look at the clock told him it was eight a.m., and when he heard the front door shut and footsteps below, he slowly began to creep out of bed. Although highly unlikely, it was quite possible that the Roses had arrived, and if he remembered correctly, Harold and Roman were quite the early birds. With Blair fast asleep, he could sneak down and speak to at least two of her parents, and then return with a breakfast tray, leaving her none the wiser.

Just as he managed to pull his arm from underneath her head, Blair shifted, causing him to wince and freeze his movement. There was no doubt that if he were able to watch himself, he'd find it comical—sitcom material really. But when she turned to her side and snuggled deeper into her pillow, he breathed a sigh of relief. Attempting to be as soundless as possible, he reached for his smoking jacket and slipped out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

"Good morning, Chuck," Harold greeted him warmly as he made his way into the kitchen.

"Mr. Waldorf," he answered with a smile.

"Coffee?" Roman inquired.

"Thank you," he said appreciatively.

Roman reached up and opened a cabinet drawer, pulling out a cup and saucer to pour in the piping hot beverage. Chuck walked over to the kitchen's center island and reached for the carafe of cream, carrying it and the coffee to the breakfast room table.

"What are you doing up so early? Is Blair awake?" Harold asked as he took the seat across from him.

"She was still sleeping when I came down. I heard a car and woke up," he admitted as he poured just a hint of cream. "I thought it might be Blair's mother and Cyrus."

"Oh, they won't be here for hours, you must have heard Gustav, he was delivering some bread," Harold explained.

"Wishful thinking on my part," he acknowledged. He took a sip of his coffee and savored the warm liquid as it made its way down his throat. Not wanting to chance any further delay, he took a deep breath and said, "I was actually hoping to have a private word with the four of you. There was some I wanted to ask."

"And what might that be?" Blair asked as she waltzed into the room. "Morning Daddy! Morning Roman!"

"Good morning, sweetheart!" "Blair!" Her two fathers returned the greeting.

Chuck swallowed nervously, wondering just how much she had overheard.

"You!" She accused, before making herself comfortable on his lap and kissing him soundly.

For a moment he forgot where he was and just enjoyed the feel of her soft lips, as her tongue danced with his. Mornings never felt complete without a wake up kiss from her.

Harold cleared his throat loudly as Roman chuckled indulgently.

Blair ran a hand through his hair as she wrinkled her nose at him. "You know I hate waking up without you next to me, almost as much as you do. It's Christmas Eve and I woke up and you were gone!"

He playfully nipped at her lips before explaining, "I was just having a cup of coffee with your father and Roman, before I prepared a tray for you—I know how fond you are of breakfast in bed."

She pouted at him, before conceding, "It's true, you have me spoiled rotten."

"If you want, you can crawl back into bed, and I'll make you your tray as planned and bring it up. We can pretend to start the morning all over again," Chuck offered gallantly.

Blair cocked her head to the side as she stared at him, all the while deliberating.

"French toast made with the brioche that was just delivered?" He tried to coax her into returning upstairs.

"So very tempting—but it's too late, I'm already up." She took a large sip of his coffee and snuggled against him, retaining her position on his lap. Blair made a face and reached for the cream, topping off his cup with a healthy splash. "You know how I feel about carbs for breakfast. Besides, I want to know what it is you were about to ask Daddy."

Chuck forced a mask of blankness to cross his face. For a moment he wondered if Blair suspected what was going on and was amusing herself by making him work very, very hard for it. Really there could be no other explanation for her unwillingness to let him out of her sight or alone with any of her family members, but he highly doubted that it was the case. If she only knew how much she was cock-blocking herself from getting proposed to, he couldn't help but smirk at the thought.

"Blair, we were just going to talk about men things," Roman jumped in, winking at him when she turned her head to look at all three of them appraisingly.

"But you were a male fashion model," Blair said bluntly to Roman. Squinting in confusion she continued her assessment. "And Daddy is your lover. Chuck is probably the gayest straight man you'll ever meet—have you seen the color of his scarves and his bow tie collection? What possible _men things_ could you have to talk about that I wouldn't be privy to?"

He bit back a laugh as Harold barked his daughter's name and Roman made a face at her. He had to hand it to her, all her points were valid. Finally he said glibly, "It was a question about your Christmas gift, Waldorf. Don't be so nosy, it will come to no good."

"Oh, then I'm definitely going to stay put," she said as she reached over and ruffled his hair. Pressing a kiss on his cheek she stood up and made her way to the refrigerator. With an airy wave of her hand she instructed them, "Go ahead, pretend I'm not here and have your little discussion while I find myself something to eat."

As her head disappeared into the refrigerator, he wondered if it was wrong that he really wished he could strangle her. Roman stared at him sympathetically as Harold stood up to join his daughter, and the two Waldorfs started rummaging for something that would suit her discerning palette. Chuck just shook his head, he didn't know why he was even surprised by this latest hiccup—apparently proposing to Blair would be the biggest challenge of his life.

.

.

.

He reached for his wine glass and took a large gulp. Why hadn't he just poured himself a scotch? His eyes closed briefly as he wondered how many more not-so-subtle digs both he and Blair were going to be subjected to during dinner. Was this not the season to be jolly? The answer was no, not if your names were Eleanor Waldorf-Rose and Harold Waldorf. What made their behavior even stranger was that Blair's parents had been perfectly amicable when they hadn't been in the other's presence.

In the days leading up to the holidays, both Eleanor and Harold had taken to calling him personally, just to confirm minor details such as itineraries and food preferences. Dinner with the Roses in Paris had been relaxing, as they sat around the kitchen drinking champagne while waiting for the duck cassoulet Cyrus had experimented with to come out of the oven. They had been so tipsy that by the time it was ready to be served, they just grabbed forks and ate directly from the La Creuset Dutch Oven, and had laughed all evening long. The evening spent with Harold and Roman last night had also been leisurely as they uncorked bottle after bottle of wine. Dinner had been even more informal as they lounged around the library near the fireplace, nibbling on cheese and fruit. Chuck loved how welcoming her parents had been, and was almost relieved that his prior proposal attempts had gone awry, just because he hadn't realized how much he wanted and craved their approval.

But as Blair stabbed her leg of lamb with a bit too much emphasis, he rubbed a reassuring hand against her knee. She put her fork down as she laced her fingers with his and squeezed his hand tightly, before letting go to resume butchering her meal. He hoped that her parents would realize how uncomfortable they were making Blair, as Cyrus and Roman's attempts to deflect their attention had fallen short. Chuck didn't even know what exactly it was he had said or done that could be responsible for the shift from warmth to blatant hostility. They had been relentless throughout the entire meal as they kept referencing _the future_. Despite the fact that he wanted to keep his plans for proposing on New Year's Eve a secret, he was on the verge of bluntly asking if her parents wanted a detailed outline of his exact intentions towards Blair.

His attention was solely focused on Blair's distress that he missed Eleanor's last comment completely. He only noted that Blair's posture was completely rigid and her eyes were narrowing in anger.

"I, for one, am curious to see how long you two plan on playing house with none of the commitment," Harold said flippantly.

"Excellent point! Really, Blair, will this be continuing while you're getting your MBA? Will it extend beyond the next two years?" Eleanor continued to drill. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you're not getting any younger, and neither am I. Quite frankly, it would be nice to have grandchildren this decade—while I still have the energy."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." Harold nodded admiringly.

"Eleanor!" "Harold!" Cyrus and Roman simultaneously yelled.

"Mother! Daddy! Sidebar—_now_!" Blair hissed as she stood up. She was visibly shaking in anger, and it took everything in Chuck's power not to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

When neither parent made an effort to move or to verbally acknowledge her, Blair stamped her foot and huffed in frustration. He could only watch as she threw her napkin onto the table and stomped to the doorway. She turned back and icily said, "I will be waiting for you two in the library."

Eleanor and Harold stared at each other in feigned confusion as they all heard the echo of library doors slamming.

"I wonder what could have put her in such a snit. Really, I don't know what's gotten into her," Eleanor said indignantly. "What did we say that was untrue? I mean, all we did was ask questions any parent in their right mind would want answered!"

"Perhaps it would be best if you two do not keep her waiting," Roman said too helpfully. "Blair seemed very upset, no?"

"Yes, yes!" Cyrus jumped in. "Off you go!"

Again, Blair's parents exchanged glances before they pushed back their chairs from the table and made their way down the hall.

Chuck had remained silent for this entire exchange as the enormity of all the veiled comments fell like a crushing weight on his chest. He didn't know if he should be livid or devastated, because it had become clear that Blair's parents questioned the longevity of their relationship. In a quiet and pained voice he confessed to her stepfathers, "I love Blair more than anything. Since I've arrived, I've been trying to have a private word with her parents. I wanted to ask them in person, if they would have _me_ for their daughter."

Not wanting Blair to have to fend for herself, Chuck stood up and said, "She shouldn't have to do this alone—please, excuse me."

"Chuck!" Cyrus called out.

He paused and turned around.

"I know it's not the same as having her mother say it, but _I_ would have you for our Blair. There's no one else I would rather have than you. And Eleanor may put up a tough front, but she would choose you, too," Cyrus said cheerfully.

"No one makes Blair glow the way you do, Chuck," Roman agreed. "I have never seen her as happy as when she is with you, and I know that Harold knows this. You are the only choice for her—for both her father and I."

Chuck smiled gratefully at them.

"Good luck," Cyrus said with a wink.

Roman lifted his wine glass and toasted him.

He nodded before he strode down the hallway, relieved to know that he was fifty percent of the way through with his goal for this holiday. But as he reached the library doors, he began to dread what he was going to be walking into. The irony of it all was not lost on him—Blair was again in the unenviable position of defending the legitimacy of their relationship. It was bad enough he had fought her on this issue, and if he had just been given the chance to discuss his position on the matter privately, it would all have been avoidable. It was foolish of him to have hoped that he could secure their blessing without it being such a production. He could hear voices through the door that had been left slightly ajar. As he reached for the knob the conversation caused him to falter.

"Nothing I said was anything your father wasn't thinking. Am I wrong, Harold?"

"_Mother_," Blair said irritably. "You do realize you're just making this worse, don't you? Both you and Daddy think you're helping but you're not. Chuck _wants_ propose to me, and he _will_, when the time is right for _us_. Maybe you two don't believe it, but we are completely committed to one another—our relationship isn't some sort of nostalgic lark. That penthouse we're living in? He bought it for me and put it in my name only, _while_ I was living with Louis."

"Blair Bear, real estate is all well and good, but that doesn't necessarily equate undying love," Harold said.

"You and Roman bought a vineyard together," Blair countered.

"Darling, if he's so serious about you, then there's nothing wrong with proving it, is there? It's not as if he has to worry that you're only after him for his money," Eleanor interrupted. "Besides, doesn't he realize that you've passed up on two heirloom rings now? He should know what's expected of him."

"The Vanderbilt ring and the Grimaldi ring?" Blair asked condescendingly. "Why would I settle for either one of those when the one Chuck bought for me is better?"

"Wait—he already bought you a ring?" Harold asked.

"_Yes_, Daddy, over five years ago, but he never got to ask me back then."

"Blair, you might have wanted to mention that to us before," Eleanor scolded. "Although, one would think that if he hadn't gotten to ask you before, he'd be desperate to ask you now. Nonetheless, had we known, we wouldn't've have said anything."

"It's not exactly something one brings up in casual conversation, Mother," Blair snapped. "I don't know why you two are trying to pressure him into proposing—Chuck and I are infinite, and the absence of a wedding band isn't going to change that."

There was a pause.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense—tell me about the ring!" Eleanor exclaimed.

"It's perfect," Blair whispered. "I only saw it once, but it was so beautiful I never forgot it."

"Details, Blair, details!" Her mother demanded impatiently.

"Harry Winston—cushion cut, eight carat tapered baguette in a platinum setting."

Harold let out a low whistle of approval as Eleanor gasped.

"But you know what the best part is?" Blair asked softly. "It will always be _my_ ring, because it was purchased for _me_, and it will become the Blair Bass ring. And one day, our son will ask me if he can have it to give to his future wife. And then it will be passed down to my grandson or my granddaughter, and so forth. And Chuck's love for me will never die."

His heart skipped a beat at her words—they were beautiful and they were perfect and it was as if she could read his soul. Blair understood him so completely, and he didn't know what he had ever done to deserve her.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, if we offended you," Harold said apologetically. "But you have to understand, you'll always be our baby girl and we just want what's best for you."

"We'll speak to Charles, let him know that perhaps we were a bit harsh," Eleanor chimed in contritely.

"A bit?"

He could picture Blair with her arms crossed and raising a brow. Chuck knocked loudly on the door before pushing it open.

"Chuck!" Blair exclaimed as a look of concern crossed her face. She walked towards him and placed her hands on his chest. His hands instinctively fell to her waist and pulled her against him.

"I need a word with your parents," he said quietly but firmly. "_In private._"

She shook her head. "Chuck, please, you don't have to—"

"Blair," he said softly as he looked into her eyes. "There's something I need to say to your parents."

She bit her lip as she hesitated for a moment. Looking up at him, Blair gazed into his eyes carefully and when she found what she was looking for she nodded.

He smiled at her and brushed his lips against hers. She leaned over to whisper in his ear, _I love you_. As she pulled away, she shot her parents a look of warning before shutting the door behind her and making her way back to the dining room.

Harold gestured for him to sit in the chair across from them.

As Chuck sat down, he took a deep breath. This was the opportunity he had been waiting for.

.

.

.

More than an hour later, he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist, as Blair pressed her cheek between his shoulder blades. With a sigh of contentment, he slipped his hands out of his pockets and closed them around hers. He had stepped outside to wrap his head around his encounter with her parents—trying to regain some equilibrium from the highs and lows of the evening. He hadn't realized how cold it was outside or how much Blair's presence could bring so much warmth.

As they stood wrapped up in the simple embrace, he was still in awe of what her parents had said to him during their private meeting. It had been difficult and uncomfortable, but he had pledged his unwavering devotion and desire for them to approve of _him_. He had asked that they find him worthy enough to bestow the honor of Blair's hand in marriage. The former Waldorfs had their game faces on as they had led him through a series of deep inquiries, snarky remarks and not-so-veiled threats, making him feel as though their answer was going to be _no_. It had been one of the most excruciating hours of his life—but it had been absolutely worth it.

Even now, he was still in awe at the ability of the older couple to have played him and Blair so convincingly well. Once they had extracted all the information they wanted and felt secure in his feelings, their masks of stoic indifference had melted away.

"_You'll have to forgive Eleanor and myself for wanting to test you a bit, make sure that you are everything you represented yourself to be," Harold explained. "We're just protective of our only daughter, especially since you've made her both the happiest and most miserable we've ever seen."_

"_Plus, where do you think she gets her devious nature from? _Genetics_," Eleanor said with a cheeky smile. _

_Harold put an arm around him and said, "Just don't keep Blair waiting too long. We trust you'll do what's best."_

"_You two weren't so naïve and foolish to believe you were the only couple ever to plot together on the UES, did you?" Eleanor clucked. She smirked at the speechless look that must have been painted on his face. "Oh, you did, how sweet."_

"_Dear, what was our old expression? The couple that plots together, stays together, was it?" Harold asked with a boyish grin on his face. "Well, maybe we didn't stay together, but we still make for a wonderful team."_

"_After all the theatrics of this performance, I certainly am in the mood for some of that divine sherry we had last time. Do you still have some left?" Eleanor asked breezily. _

_Her ex-husband stood up and offered her his arm. Facing her he said, "I've tucked a bottle away for you, just in case."_

_As Blair's parents made their way to the door, Harold paused and looked at him. "We already consider you family, Chuck, it's just up to you to make it official. Come join us for dessert when you're ready."_

Although he had been bested by seasoned veterans in the game of manipulation, it had warmed his heart that they were so accepting of him. Truthfully, he admired the fact that her parents had been so devious. It only foreshadowed what he and Blair would have to prepare for with their own children in the distant future.

The comfortable silence was interrupted by a soft sigh from Blair. He smiled as he waited for her to pose her question.

"So when were you planning on asking me?" She asked quietly.

"Asking you what?" He attempted to play dumb.

"I found the ring box in your suitcase just now," she said casually. "When you didn't join us for dessert…"

He sighed loudly before admitting, "New Year's Eve."

"Where?" She asked curiously.

"New Zealand."

"Why there?"

"Because I didn't want to wait a moment longer that I had to. And yes, I factored in that we would be flying well over twenty-four hours, but considering they celebrate New Year's first…I thought the sooner I could rush in the New Year, the sooner I could announce to the world that you're mine," he confessed.

"I've _been_ yours," she teased.

He chuckled softly as he started to toy with her fingers.

"Don't ask me, ok?" Blair said suddenly.

Chuck froze and turned around to face her. "I _want_—"

"I know," she interrupted. "But after the lovely display my parents put on tonight…"

He looked at her searchingly.

"…it kinda feels like they've stolen the moment from us, you know? Like it's not…"

"_Ours_," he finished for her.

"Yeah," she said softly. "And when you ask me, I don't want it to be about anything other than you and me."

"Is anything in this world ever _not_ about you or me?" He asked playfully.

"Of course not." She grinned at him, but then she turned serious again. "So don't ask me—not yet."

He pressed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't be wise to be seen capitulating to your parents so early on."

"Show them no fear," Blair acknowledged. "Otherwise, they'll think they can have final say on everything—like our wedding date."

"Or where we go on our honeymoon."

"Or where we summer."

"Or what we name our first child," he concluded.

He watched as Blair bit her lip, trying to hide her pleasure at his words—that he had voiced it first.

"I think it would behoove my parents to suffer a bit—worry that their attempts to control the situation may have caused a delay in their preferred timeline."

"Such is the burden of the parents of a tyrant," Chuck said devilishly.

She shrugged indifferently. "Sins of the father and mother, more like it."

He laughed softly and leaned down to kiss her.

"Cancel New Zealand," she murmured as they broke apart reluctantly. "Let's spend New Year's at home, just you and me, and us not getting engaged."

"Is that what you want?" He asked.

Blair nodded.

"Ok," he agreed.

She reached out to take his hand as they headed back inside—Chuck and Blair, holding hands.

.

.

.

It should come to no surprise that it was a run-of-the-mill completely average Wednesday when it finally happened. In fact, what made the day so remarkable was the fact that there was nothing special about that day. The Wednesday in question was so common it could have been exchanged seamlessly with any number of other days—it held absolutely no distinction.

New Year's had come and gone as Blair had requested—just the two of them alone in her penthouse and no engagement. But just because he had promised her that he wouldn't propose as planned, didn't mean that he wouldn't ask at the first opportunity that presented itself. As he gathered the reports on his desk that he needed to review at home tonight, he still shook his head at the fact that he let the perfect opportunity to pop the question slip him by.

_On the second day of the New Year, Blair dragged him out of their penthouse, wanting to take advantage of his last weekend of vacation. She announced to him over breakfast just how much she missed ice skating outdoors, especially in Central Park. When he offered to reserve the rink in its entirety, Blair simply rolled her eyes._

"_It wouldn't kill you to mingle with the masses."_

"_Who are you, and what have you done to Blair Waldorf?"_

"_It's _ice skating_, Chuck," she answered. "I promise it's the only time I'll make you rub shoulders with plebeians."_

"_I should get this in writing," he muttered._

"_And you have to skate _with _me," she added pleadingly._

"_Blair, you _know _I'm a terrible skater, just as bad as Roman. Wasn't it enough that we went ice skating on Christmas?" He reminded her. "It was on an actual pond, this won't compare."_

_She let out a loud sigh of disappointment and crossed her arms._

_Three full minutes passed before he irritably consented. "Fine!" _

_The radiant smile on her face was enough to offset his annoyance, as she bounced out of the room to get dressed. _

_An hour later they had finished lacing up their skates and he awkwardly stepped onto the ice, attempting to avoid the children who whizzed right by him. Blair glided backwards, throwing in the occasional simple jump, while he tried his best to keep his balance. This was not a fun routine—it would take close to thirty minutes for him to feel even remotely comfortable circling the rink more than two feet from the railing. _

_It must have been because they had gone skating less than a couple of weeks ago, that it only took him a few minutes to orient himself. She was spinning in circles angelically when he caught up to her. He offered his hand when she turned his way, and with their fingers linked they made their way around the large rink. There was a light and chilly breeze in the air and a rosy glow to Blair's cheeks. Despite the fact that they were in a public ice skating rink and surrounded by pre-pubescent adolescents and middle-class families, he loved how at home he felt with her, even when participating in an activity that he was not fond of. On their third lap, he could feel her restlessness and let go of her hand, gesturing for her to roam freely. _

_Just as she was stepping into a twirling motion, a pimply-faced teenager came out of nowhere, and slammed into her. Before he could call out her name in warning, she was sprawled out on her back, and the culprit responsible for the fall was long gone. When he reached her, she had pushed herself up on one elbow as she rubbed her hip. _

_As he crouched down to make sure she was ok, she pouted. "I can't believe that kid pushed me! This must be the first time I've fallen in nearly two years."_

"_I can't believe you ended up on your ass before I did," he teased her. _

"_Help me up?" She asked grumpily._

"_Of course," he said with a smile, holding out his hand._

_He should have expected it, but he didn't. When Blair tugged on him with all of her might, he ended up toppled on the ice next to her._

"Oops," she said with no trace of remorse. "Oh well, your not falling wasn't going to last anyway. Best to get it out of the way, don't you think?"

_Chuck narrowed his eyes at her. Of all the childish things! He opened his mouth to snap out a retort, as Blair stared at him, her eyes twinkling in merriment. The only words that came to mind were _marry me_. All of a sudden, his throat closed up as his heart sped up and he wanted to give voice to those two magical words. He reached his hand in his pocket and realized that he didn't have the ring. _

"_Come on, Bass, let's get off the floor," Blair said before she kissed him softly on the mouth. She stood up and dusted the ice off of her skirt. Looking back at him she asked, "Are you coming?"_

And just as quickly as the moment had come, it had disappeared. After that, he had been on the lookout for another chance to ask the all important question. When he proposed, he wanted it to feel just like the first time he had—he wanted it to be instinctual and unplanned. But replicating that feeling was proving to be impossible, and before he knew it, it was Blair's first day of school, and all he could do was bemoan the missed opportunity.

The first couple of weeks of the semester proved to be a major adjustment period, as they were confronted with significantly less amount of time spent together. But instead of complaining, they both made do—as Blair was in her element, thriving in the academic environment, and fixated on being top in her class. So, as much as the itch to propose plagued him, Chuck hadn't wanted to rob her of her moment with any distractions.

Soon, Valentine's Day was just around the corner and he still hadn't proposed. Because it was far too tacky and un-Blair-like, he decided that he would wait until after the holiday had passed to ask her. He was more than aware of how foolish it would be to even consider asking her on that day—but it didn't mean he still wouldn't plan something romantic. When he mentioned a special surprise for the commercially manufactured day, Blair had glared at him and said, _don't you dare_. Her negative reaction amused him so much, he thought perhaps it would be better if she _did_ think he was going to propose that day, so when he actually did a few days later, she could be surprised.

He had organized a full day of pampering for her, followed by a short scavenger hunt—leading her to gift after gift for her to wear to their dinner that evening. On their rooftop, Chuck had ordered for a tent to be erected for a candlelit dinner. To further add to the illusion of a proposal, he had trailed rose petals from their bedroom door leading towards the elevator with a note taped to the call button—_up_.

_He met her with a glass of champagne and a smile, noticing the tightness around her mouth. _

_As they sat down for the catered meal, she had been unable to stop herself from blurting out, "You're not going to ask me tonight, are you?"_

_He allowed for a look of disappointment to cross his face as he quickly masked it with one of denial. He had to stop himself from laughing out loud at Blair's look of disdain._

"_Of course not," he forced himself to sputter._

_Blair sighed loudly as she crossed her arms. "Because you know I'll have to say no if you ask me tonight. What would I tell our children, Chuck? That their father wasn't clever enough to find a creative way to propose? That we share our engagement date with half the people across the country?"_

_He wisely chose to keep his mouth closed to see how much further she was going to dig her own grave._

"_How is it possible that you would settle on the most un-romantic day of the year, when you are the most romantic person I know?" She continued to expound._

_He knew it was wrong, but there was something undeniably irresistible about Blair when she was bitchy and angry. And despite the fact that he had no intention of proposing to her tonight, her reaction was enough to tempt him to ask her anyway._

"_This was _not_ a solid effort on your part, Bass," she finished her ranting a minute later._

"_Then I guess it's a good thing I'm not asking you tonight, isn't it?" he snipped._

They had managed to get through the meal without any further incident, and he would have proposed to her the following weekend at Victrola—he didn't see why he couldn't recycle one of his failed proposal attempts if she were none the wiser—if he hadn't overheard her phone conversation the next morning. He didn't know if she hadn't realized he was nearby or if she had done it on purpose, but she was in her closet with her parents on speakerphone as she dressed for school.

"_Wait, he did _what_?" Eleanor asked._

"_I know! Do you believe he was going to ask me to marry him on Valentine's Day?" Blair said condescendingly. _

"_Well, that seems lazy, almost. No effort, really," Harold agreed. _

_Chuck could hear the disappointment in his voice._

"_I stopped him before he made the cardinal mistake, Daddy," Blair assured him. "But this really makes me rethink saying yes when he actually asks. After the debacle that could have been last night, I may have to punish him."_

"_He would be fully deserving of it," Eleanor opined._

"_I don't know why he had to go all out and over-the-top to begin with. He knows I want to marry him, but yet he insists on all the theatrics," Blair said with a labored sigh._

_He backed away from the closet, stunned and nearly shaking with rage. After everything that had happened, he couldn't believe what he had just heard. It made him want to scream in frustration—grab her by the shoulders and ask her if she had any inkling of what he had been through trying to make the proposal unforgettable._

_When she came out of her closet a minute later, he was still sitting on their bed, his eyes glazed. She did not look surprised at all that he was sitting there, and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. He hadn't been able to stop himself from pulling away at the last minute and stepping away from her. Blair looked confused more than hurt._

"_Chuck, is everything ok?" She asked._

_He refused to look at her as he stared outside the window._

"_Chuck?" She repeated, as she stood next to him._

_When he still hadn't answered, she wedged herself between he and the wall of glass, placing her hands on his face and forcing him to look at her._

"_What's wrong?"_

"_You are aware that there's nothing wrong with my hearing, aren't you?" He bit out icily. _

_As Blair realized what this was all about, she dropped her hands from his face and rolled her eyes. "Maybe some of us shouldn't eavesdrop on conversations."_

"_You were on _speakerphone_, Blair. What was I supposed to do? Stick my fingers in my ears and start humming loudly?" He asked acidly._

"_Please! You act like you overheard something shocking and revealing. I said almost the same thing to your face, verbatim, last night." Blair scoffed. "What's the big deal? Boo fucking hoo, Chuck, sometimes the truth hurts."_

_He opened his mouth to object and then suddenly he closed it. _No._ He had nothing more to say to her. _

_She watched him as he silently walked into the closet to find a coat. When he walked by her wordlessly, she followed, as he picked up his briefcase and pushed the call button for the elevator._

"_Cat got your tongue, Bass?"_

_He stared ahead at the elevator doors._

"_Are you giving me the silent treatment?" She asked in astonishment, when he hadn't answered a minute later. "You're really not going to talk to me?"_

_The doors slid open and he stepped inside. _

"_Good to know you're handling this in a mature fashion, Chuck," Blair laughed. As the doors drew closed she added, "Call me later."_

_Chuck had been certain that the irritation would have subsided by the end of the day, but as he made his way home, he still found himself highly annoyed. Blair sat at the dining room table with her books waiting for him. She smiled at him in amusement, due to his refusal to pick up the phone for any of her calls and the fact that he hadn't returned a single text message either. Any form of communication between the two of them had gone through Sam. _

_As if to illustrate her lack of contrition, she talked at him the entire time he ate, pausing only to see if he'd answer any of the questions she threw his way. His silence only fueled Blair's high spirits as she told him all about her classmate who she thought would be perfect for Nate. When he had finished eating, she brought him a scotch. Ignoring her gesture, he stood up to make his way to his office. _

_Sensing where he was headed, Blair moved quickly to stand in his way. She placed her hands on his chest and said, "If you don't want to talk to me, fine. But you do not get to go hide in your office like a sulking little child."_

_With that she walked back to the dining room table and grabbed a textbook, a notepad, a pen and a highlighter, before making her way to the couch. She looked up at him and patted the seat next to her. He hesitated only for a fraction of a second before he picked up his briefcase and sat down, pulling out last quarter's financial statements. He was the one who shifted over to close the four inch gap that separated them. When she rested her cheek against his shoulder as she continued to read, he struggled to keep the smile off his face. And later that night, when they were in bed—he couldn't help himself from reaching out and using his finger to spell out the words _I love you_ on her bare shoulder blade before she fell asleep._

The silent treatment had lasted all of four days, as Blair had a big presentation to prepare for. It had set their schedule for the next week upside down, as they only saw each other in the morning when they woke or at night as they went to bed. He probably would have prolonged the strike, but it seemed pointless when he realized how melodramatic he was being. Plus, he just plain _missed_ talking to her too much.

When he finished closing his briefcase, he slipped his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket. The ring sat burning in his pocket—same as it had since two days after Valentine's Day. It had become an adventure of sorts, seeing if he could sneak the ring in and out of his pockets without Blair finding it or noticing. There had only truly been two close calls. But as he fished out the ring to stare at it, it almost slipped off of his pinky finger and onto the floor. This had become part of his daily ritual, examining the ring before leaving the office, seeing if _today_ would be the day that it would all be made official. For the first time, he felt a throng of nervous energy, a sense of anticipation in the air.

Just as he stepped outside of the Bass Industries building, Arthur made his way from the driver's side to hold the door open for him. Blair was already inside, her books on the seat, as she grilled Nate about his fourth date in as many days with her classmate she had introduced him to. She paused her conversation long enough to lean over and greet him with an enthusiastic kiss hello, before resuming her animated interrogation.

He watched as Blair laughed loudly while she listened to Archibald's inane rambling. He glanced at his briefcase full of reports that needed his approval—preferably first thing tomorrow morning. It looked like tonight would be another typical weeknight—some paperwork for him and studying for her. There was absolutely nothing noteworthy or special about today. The absurd normality of it all was offset by the fact that from her simple kiss hello, his lips still tingled and the butterflies that had never been murdered, were fluttering out of control. And despite the fact that he could predict exactly what was to occur from the moment she got off the phone until the moment they fell asleep—Blair was still the most fascinating and interesting person he knew. Even the idea of sitting on the couch later that evening with her legs tucked underneath his thigh (her feet were _always_ so cold) while he flipped through reports and she furiously typed on her laptop, sounded like the most appealing thing in the world. This was their everyday and it would continue to be so in the future, and he had complete faith that he needed to ask her _right now_.

While Nate was gushing about how much he owed her for introducing him to Fiona, Blair managed to slip her legs over Chuck's, and rest her head against his shoulder. Just as she was about to ask Nate when they should set up a double date, she felt her phone being pulled out of her hand. She looked up to see Chuck calmly pressing the end button before tossing her phone down towards the front of the limo.

"Chuck!" She scolded him with a glare. Could he not wait a mere two minutes for her to end the call? With a sigh she untangled her legs from him so she could shimmy down the adjacent seat to retrieve her phone that had already started to ring again. Just as she stood up, he pulled her down onto his lap so she was straddling him.

Without another word, he rained soft kisses against her jawline, before molding his lips to hers. Her hands slid up his chest as he began kissing her so desperately and passionately that her toes curled up as she melted into his embrace—her ringing phone a distant memory.

Her eyes were hooded as her body tingled with lust when he finally pulled away. She leaned forward to press her forehead against his and purred in contentment. "Hi."

Before she could dive back in to kiss him again, Chuck pulled back a fraction and whispered, "Marry me."

Her eyes flew open as her heart jumped in her throat. She felt her eyes tear up as her body was flooded with so much elation that she didn't know if she could breathe. Blair leveraged herself off his shoulders to create some distance between them—she needed to see his eyes. She didn't see a trace of uncertainty, but instead felt his hand cover hers, a ring slipping onto her left finger. The edges of her lips started to twitch into a smile.

She whispered right back, "You sure?"

He lifted her left hand and kissed her palm, showing her how absolutely perfect the ring looked on her finger—where it was meant to be. A moment later her lips crashed down against his. This was their favorite dance—an old and familiar one. There was no doubt to what both of their answers would be.

_**Yes**_**.**

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.

.

_**the end.**_

* * *

A/N: I hope you the epilogue met your expectations, I wrote the final scene in December of last year, and had been ITCHING to write the rest of it, much of which had been in the works for quite some time now. Despite the fact that I _loathe _epic-length epilogues, I just couldn't resist the scenes and moments that kept popping into my head. It was originally only supposed to be about a thousand words, so much for brevity (a word I don't pretend to know the meaning of). And yay! It's official—stick a fork, I am done with this story! Woo hoo!

This chapter is dedicated to Iluvenis, who appreciates nuance in ways that I cannot even describe. I am so glad that we've become friends, and I hope that it was worth all the torture of my vague descriptions that hinted at nothing except to taunt you with the fact that I knew what was in it and you did not. Oh, and for the record – SMFOL!

For Ollie, my partner in crime for driving Dovvy crazy, in a way that only we can (ok, definitely more me than you). I can't believe you put up with my neurotic shit and you are way too kind, in general. Oh, and in case I didn't tell you, I don't think I could have written this without you. Seriously, you were my sounding board and support system and I will forever love you for it.

Uncorazonquebrado—thank you for the last minute suggestion, you are my favorite MLP: TS, EVER.

Thank you to Noirreigne for beta-ing.

To the best readers and reviewers, thank you a million times, I'm humbled by your support and interest.

And of course, last but not least, sorry to keep having to do this, but as it keeps happening, please if you could refrain from mentioning the show to me in any way, I would greatly appreciate it. I stopped watching post 4x11, and I would like to remain in my bubble of not knowing. Thanks.


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